


What The Wind Blew In

by So_Delialicious



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Emotional roller-coasters are the worst kind, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Delialicious/pseuds/So_Delialicious
Summary: Change comes blowing into Patsy and Delia's lives when they meet at Nurses Training.





	1. Wind-blown

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's a lot of first meet fics but I can't get enough of them so decided to write one myself. It seems to be shaping up to be a long one, so stick with me and let me know what you think!   
> There's mostly fluff to start with, but bear with me. XD  
> Special thanks to Patsy_Mount for your help and support.

Patience Mount gazed out the window absentmindedly as she listened to the other girls natter on about their plans for the few days of quiet before training began. She tried to pretend she was paying attention but found herself watching as yet another new girl trudged her way up the street towards the nurses’ home, struggling to carry all her things from the bus stop. She noted with some amusement that this young lady seemed particularly flustered. Her small stature was making the task of carrying her large suitcase especially difficult, and her hair, blown out of its bun by a rouge wind, was now fluttering about her face as she tried to hurry along.

“Patsy!”

Her name being spoken sharply snapped her back to the conversation she was supposed to be involved in. She was clearly not as good at feigning interest as she had thought. She looked at Frances, who had spoken her name, with an expression she tried very hard not to ever show; confusion.

“I asked you what time I should tell Harry to pick us up on Saturday.” Frances said with a note of annoyance. “You promised you would come and keep his brother Joe company while we dance, remember?”

Patsy was watching out the window again but just then the girl had rounded the corner and disappeared from view. She looked at Frances and gave a weak smile.

“Of course, how could I forget?” she said, though not meaning it in the way Frances would assume. There was a social planned for the Saturday evening as a sort of get-to-know-you for this intake of students. Patsy had originally written off the idea of attending in preference for some quiet time to herself, but had somehow been roped into going by her new class-mates. Worse yet, they had organised a date for her. An evening spent avoiding the advances of a young man she had never met, while the other girls danced with whatever fellow they had chosen to date this week was not something Patsy was looking forward to. She was dreading the thought and silently wished she hadn’t been in such a rush to get into her accommodation. If she had have just arrived later through the week…

“Well?” Frances’ pitch climbed again in exasperation, “What time? Really Patsy you don’t even seem the least bit interested. I don’t know why we even bothered to find you a date!”

Patsy sucked in an agitated breath. “There’s more to life than finding a man, Frances. Some of us are actually more focused on making a career of nursing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m quite sure my shoes could do with another spot of polish.”

The excuse was weak and she didn't care. Patsy was already beginning to realise that the majority of the girls were just here to waste time while attempting to nab themselves a husband. She didn’t have any such goals and intended to throw herself wholly into her training. If there was one thing Patsy had taken away from her years at boarding school, it was that cliques and fitting in was grossly over-rated.

As she turned on her heel and walked briskly away, she could hear the girls gasp in shock. “Honestly, Frances, she’s a waste of a good date. I could come instead and—“ She heard someone say before she strode out of earshot. 

_Good,_ Patsy steamed, _maybe someone will take my place. The poor fellow probably would have a better time with som—_ Patsy’s thoughts were interrupted as she collided with someone, sending cases and books all over the corridor. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” She said as she hurriedly picked up books off the floor. “I say, it must have been a long day for me to have been so careless.”

“I’m relieved I’m not the only one who’s had a long day,” Came the soft reply. 

Patsy’s head snapped up at the sweet Welsh voice she had not expected. Her eyes were met with the sparkling blue pools that belonged to the girl she had been watching from the window. She still looked a mess; tendrils of wind-blown dark hair playing about her neck and cheek, but in a closer proximity, Patsy found it made her look sweet. She felt herself drawn in by the gaze holding hers and her hand reached out subconsciously to move a piece of wayward hair from the girl’s fringe. She stiffened suddenly as she realised what her hand was about to do and offered it in a handshake instead. 

“Well, it seems we could both do with a cup of hot tea. I’m Patience Mount, but people call me Patsy.” She smiled at the girl.

“Delia Busby”, the Welshwoman replied, returning the smile. “Tea sounds lovely but first I need to find my room and tidy all this away. Room 16?”

“Well, Miss Busby, I hope you don’t mind a bit of music. Your room shares a wall with mine and I’m quite partial to the company of my wireless.” Pasty said as she picked up the cumbersome suitcase. “And fortunately for you, tidying is my forte.”

And with that, Patsy strode with the case down the corridor without so much as a backward glance.

***

Delia stood for a moment, watching this intriguing blonde woman walking down the hallway with her suitcase in hand. She was more than a little embarrassed that she had met her first fellow student in such a state.

_Top form, Busby,_ She fumed to herself. _You always knew how to make a first impression._

Despite the burning she still felt in her cheeks, Delia found herself smiling as she caught the lingering scent of perfume and bleach that followed in Patsy’s wake. She tried in vain to right her hair and straighten her dress. Oh well, fixing her appearance now wouldn’t erase their first meeting from the mind of Patience Mount she was sure. Picking up her remaining belongings, she took hurried steps with her shorter legs, trying not to fall too far behind lest she end up lost again.

Managing to make up some of the distance between them now that she wasn’t so heavily burdened, Delia found herself being led around a corner and into the darkened dead-end of the corridor. She noted with some relief that her room wasn’t in fact the one at the very end. Something about being stuck in a corner made Delia feel anxious. She had never lived in such close quarters before, having come from a small town in green surrounds of Pembrokeshire. Patsy, on the other hand, seemed entirely chuffed at her good fortune in being allocated the end room. 

“One does have more freedom without neighbours on both sides,” she had said. Delia wasn’t quite sure what she meant by it, but assumed that Patsy just preferred the quiet.

Delia tentatively opened her door, placed her things on the floor near the bed and took in her surroundings. The musty smell of a room that had been unused for several weeks affronted her, and she moved directly to the small window above her desk to let in some fresh air. The room was sparse but that was to be expected of student accommodation in a nurses’ home. A tired-looking wardrobe and a small table with a mirror took up the space on one wall. The head of the dark wooden single bed was butted up against the wall that her room shared with Patsy’s and was accompanied by a small side table with an equally dated lamp. Delia smiled to herself as she glanced around. She couldn't believe she'd finally made it to London.

“How delightful,” She breathed with enthusiasm.

“It’s not exactly the Ritz but I suppose a student can’t be choosy,” Patsy responded in an upbeat tone as she placed the suitcase on the bed. “Mine is the mirror image of yours.”

“Well I had better hope you don’t snore, then.” Delia giggled as she received a surprised look from the blonde. She was a little surprised herself to be teasing already with this almost-stranger.

“One would hope not, now that I have a neighbour to tell me that I do,” Patsy eyed the thin wall wearily. 

“Well how about we promise not to tell the other if they do, then,” Delia smiled reassuringly, “It can be our little secret.”

Patsy returned a small smile and then quickly shifted into efficiency mode. “Let’s get you unpacked so we can find that cup of tea, shall we?”

It turned out the blonde nurse had been entirely truthful in her earlier statement and soon all of Delia’s belongings were packed away neatly. She had even swept and scrubbed the floor whilst Delia packed away her more personal items. The room smelled and looked much fresher, and Delia now understood the faint scent of bleach she had noticed on Patsy earlier. With the work completed, Patsy led the way to the communal kitchen for a much-needed break.

The hot, sweet tea felt like a warm hug as Delia savoured every sip. She looked over the rim of her cup at Patsy, who was busy fussing about in the cupboards, looking for biscuits to accompany the tea. She had a grace about her, even while rummaging through dark, overcrowded cupboards. Delia had found herself watching Patsy more so than actually putting her things away when Patsy helped her unpack, and yet still couldn’t help but watch her now. 

“AH HA! Gypsy creams!” Patsy beamed as she triumphantly held out the biscuit pack. 

Delia flushed as she realised she had been staring. She held her cup back up to her lip and smiled in an attempt to hide the rosy cheeks. “A champion unpacker and a snack extraordinaire,” She teased, taking a biscuit and pulling the halves apart. 

“Really, Miss Busby, you don’t think you’re a little old to be playing with your food?” Patsy retorted, amused at the child-like behaviour.

Delia looked at her with mock offence. “Never. Eating a cream biscuit without pulling it apart should be against the law,” she stated with conviction as she made short work of the plainer half and began to savour the creamy side. “And if I wasn’t so hungry I’d have wiped this cream on your cheek for even suggesting otherwise.”

Patsy couldn’t help it; a smile began to crack at one corner of her mouth and spread across her face. What a breath of fresh air this young welsh woman was. She watched on in amusement as Delia took another biscuit and started the process again.

The afternoon flew by as Patsy showed Delia around the nurses home and surrounding area. Delia was surprised at how well they had hit it off, and was certainly relieved to have found someone to get along with so soon. London didn’t seem so foreign and lonely now. She was excited to start this new chapter of her life; away from Pembrokshire and away from a well-meaning but overbearing mother.

As she lay in her bed that night, Delia listened to the muffled sounds of Patsy humming along to the wireless and drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.


	2. Bless You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is ever conventional with Delia around. Fun and fluff (and a little bit of skin ;) ) to fill in some blanks before Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks always to Patsy_Mount for her support and advice, and thank you everyone for your lovely comments and encouragement.

“AHH-CHOO!!!”

Patsy’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed. 

What was that? 

Where was she? 

She scanned the room as her sleepy haze lifted and was reminded again of her new abode in the Nurses’ Home. She had spent the past few nights in blissful silence as her end of the corridor remained largely unoccupied but had just been awoken by a sound.

Patsy looked at the time on the small alarm clock. 5:48am. What on earth had woken her?

“AHHHHH-CHOOOOOOOOO!!!” 

Suddenly the memory of her new neighbour came flooding back and Patsy chuckled to herself at the sound of the snuffling next door.

“Bless you,” She offered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Patsy! I didn’t mean to wake you,” Came the clearer-than expected reply. The walls really were thin.

Patsy could hear Delia get out of bed and shuffle around her room, followed by some muttering that sounded a lot like, “How could you forget handkerchiefs, you daft thing?”

Pulling back her warm covers and padding over to her wardrobe, Patsy pulled out one of her many perfectly ironed hankies and made her way out into the corridor. She rapped lightly on the Welsh woman’s door and waited for her to open it. No answer but the sounds of rustling in the room. She knocked again and waited for an invitation.

“AHH CHOOO!!” she heard instead.

Figuring she couldn’t be heard, Patsy let herself in and turned quickly to shut the door. 

“I thought you could use this,” She said as she turned into the room, holding up the handkerchief. 

It took a second for her eyes to locate the other woman in the dim room but eventually spotted her on her hands and knees, rummaging in the bottom of the wardrobe. So engrossed in what she was doing, Delia obviously hadn’t heard Patsy knock or enter. In a terribly unladylike fashion, Delia was shoulders deep in the wardrobe with her rear end sticking out into the room. Patsy felt her cheeks turn a hot shade of crimson as she noticed that Delia was wearing a night gown, not a top and bottoms like Patsy was, which had ridden up and was exposing her knickers. She stared for a moment, allowing her eyes to follow the smooth skin of Delia’s calves, all the way up muscular thighs…

“A-hem,” Patsy cleared her throat, as much to stop her gawking as to announce her presence. “Delia?”

Delia straightened at the sound of her name and bumped her head on a shelf in the process. 

“Beth gwaedlyd!” She cursed in Welsh as she rubbed her sore head. 

Patsy bit back a smirk at the outburst then remembered why she had come in. “I brought you a handkerchief, seeing you seem to have... misplaced yours,” She offered. She did so hope that the blush had gone from her cheeks by now.

Delia took the delicate yellow handkerchief and smiled up at Patsy. “You even chose my favourite colour,” She beamed, “Thank you, Patsy”.

“How terribly perceptive of me. In that case, you can keep it,” Patsy offered with a smile.

Delia started to get up from her position on the floor but a shooting pain in her newly assaulted head prevented her from getting far and she slid back down. Immediately, Patsy was before her, offering out a hand and pulling her up into a standing position. Delia’s head had other ideas and a wave of dizziness washed over her at the sudden change in altitude. She wavered and fell into the taller woman, catching her by surprise and sending them both sprawling onto the floor.

Stunned from the impact, Patsy found herself lying on her back on the floor, with a diminutive welsh brunette on top of her. Delia's long brown hair fell all about her face like a veil, and Patsy reached up a hand to brush it aside, uncovering the smaller woman's equally stunned face. Delia blinked several times before looking directly into Patsy’s crystal blue eyes.

A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other. Patsy flushed again as she remembered the sight she had walked in on and the close proximity to her now.

Suddenly, Delia erupted into a fit of laughter and rolled off of Patsy onto the floor. The blonde simply watched her in confusion for a moment, before letting the infectious laughter consume her too. Patsy couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed quite so hard. She couldn’t remember EVER laughing whilst rolling about on the floor of all places. It felt wonderful.

“Well, Delia, you certainly have an interesting way of getting to know someone,” She chuckled.

“It’s just part of my charm,” Delia responded, putting on a thicker accent. “But I suppose maybe now I owe you some breakfast?”

“As compensation for knocking the wind out of me? I suppose breakfast will suffice,” Patsy replied as she stood and helped the smaller woman up. “I know a great little café. I’ll go and get dressed, and knock for you in a moment.”

“Perfect, I’m starving!”

Letting herself out and back into her own room, Patsy took a moment to lean against the door and take a deep breath. She hadn’t expected to make any friends here, and yet here was this intriguing young woman living right next door, with whom Patsy felt instantly drawn to. How as it even possible to feel so comfortable with someone she had just met? Patience Mount put very little stock in relationships and was unfamiliar with the ease of which she communicated and laughed with Delia. She found this all somewhat unsettling. Still, she shook it off and got herself dressed and pinned up her hair. No harm in having breakfast with company, now that they were up anyway.

Unbidden, the image of Delia bent over into the wardrobe crept into Patsy’s mind and once again she felt her cheeks burn and her breath catch. She had never been so affected by someone before. She was going to have to push that memory aside if she was going to make it through breakfast.

***

The two women were the first patrons of the day at the café, having been up so early from Delia’s rather abrupt wake-up call. Patsy listened as Delia chattered easily about her family and life back home. Her accent made the words seem more vivid somehow, and for once Patsy had to desire to end the reverie. She sat quietly and listened, but did not offer any stories of her own.

There was something peaceful about sitting in the otherwise empty dining area and they both took their time enjoying the meal. Eventually they both finished off their breakfast and tea and were getting up to leave when a rather noisy group of ladies burst through the door.

Patsy groaned as she recognised them. She shot Delia a quick look of dread as the group approached.

“Patsy!” came the ever-grating voice of Frances. Patsy had only known her for five days and had already heard enough.

“We looked all over for you yesterday and couldn’t find you. Where on earth have you been? And who is this? Are you new? The name is Frances Harper.” The words came flowing out so quickly there was no opportunity given for anyone to answer a single question. 

Delia blinked momentarily as she tried to catch up with who was now being spoken to. 

“Delia Busby, nice to meet you,” She replied, offering out a handshake.

Frances ignored the gesture as she had already begun prattling on in the assaulting torrent of sentences and questions which she didn’t allow time to answer. Her words were directed at Patsy once again.

“I can’t believe you stalked off like that yesterday after we so kindly found you a date. And the shoe polish excuse was just insulting. Never mind, though. Lizzy has offered to go with us to keep Joe company instead. I’m assuming you don’t care. Are you even going to come? I’m sure Delia here as more sense and will be there, won’t you Delia?” Again, no pause. “She’s probably even got a date lined up already.”

Everyone looked at Delia questioningly, obviously waiting for her response. She racked her brains momentarily to figure out what on earth they were talking about and finally remembered hearing about a social on the following night.

“Well, I won’t turn down a night of dancing and drinks,” She replied cautiously, “But I won’t be bringing a date. I’m sure Patsy and I can keep each other company while you girls dance the night away.” She flicked a quick smile in Patsy’s direction. The latter sentence was more of an invitation than a statement.

Patsy really had no intention of going at all but it seemed that Frances and the others were going to be relentless. Well, she supposed that if Delia was offering to be there and keep her company she might be able to stand it for an hour or two. Besides, it would get Frances off her back for now.

“Well I guess it’s settled then,” Patsy tucked her handbag into the crook of her arm and started to make her way towards the door. “Excuse us, ladies,” She said before turning to Delia. “We’d better get back, Delia, if we’re ever going to get everything done today. See you tomorrow night, girls.”

Delia took her queue and mumbled a quick ‘nice to meet you’ to the group as she hurried after Patsy. She bustled through the door expecting to have to jog to catch up, but Patsy had waited right outside the doorway and Delia walked straight into her in her haste.

_Ooomph!_

Patsy stumbled but regained her footing and steadied Delia.

“I hope you don’t plan on making a habit of this, Busby. I might have to invest in some padding.” Patsy jested as she readjusted her clothing.

“I promise I’m not usually this clumsy,” She replied and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I was in rather a hurry to avoid another onslaught from Frances.”

“Well that makes two of us.” Patsy smirked. 

The pair started back towards the direction of the nurses’ home. They walked in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, Delia could keep it in no longer and voiced the question that had been plaguing her since leaving the café.

“So…” She began uncertainly, “What actually is it that we needed to get done today so urgently?”

Patsy gave her a lop-sided smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Absolutely nothing, I just couldn’t stand another second with Frances and I’ve run out of shoes to polish.”

Delia burst into another fit of giggles at the admission. “Patsy! How very devious of you!” She grinned and then started to quicken her pace, “Come on then, last one to my room is buying the first round of drinks tomorrow night!”

And with that, Delia took off at a run, leaving Patsy staring after her in amused bewilderment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse me if the Welsh cursing is incorrect.. Google translate isn't always reliable, I know.  
> Feel free to follow me on Twitter @AmesLea92 . I don't post much but would be nice to get to know you all.


	3. Sociably Unsociable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the social that Patsy's been dreading. Surely it won't be so bad now that Delia will be there, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you always to Patsy_Mount for your help, even though I was a meany and didn't send you this chapter before I posted it. Hehe

Delia slipped on her shoes and took one more look in the mirror to ensure her hair had not once again loosened itself from the high pony-tail. She glanced at the two glasses sitting on the little dressing table and smiled to herself. She had managed to sneak a bottle of scotch past Matron in her suitcase, even though the girls were told that no alcohol was permitted inside the accommodation. She had unearthed the contraband yesterday evening while she and Patsy had been sitting on her bed listening to Patsy’s wireless. 

Patsy face had cracked into a grin what Delia had somewhat nervously presented the bottle.

“Delia Busby, you dark horse!” She had exclaimed, scurrying off to her room and returning with two glasses.

“Oh, I’m the dark horse? And how do you explain these glasses, then, Miss Mount?” Delia had retorted.

“One must always be prepared,” Patsy answered breezily before leaning closer to whisper, “Plus I have a bottle of gin and some tonic in my delicates drawer.”

They had chatted easily over several glasses each before Patsy noticed it had gone past curfew and slipped back into her room, taking her wireless with her. Delia had felt instantly lonesome once Patsy had said goodnight and left. She had tucked herself into bed and pulled the blankets up around herself to try and fill the void. She could hear the sounds of Patsy preparing for bed drifted off to sleep listening to Patsy humming softly to herself.

Delia had had no idea what to wear and had eventually chosen a simple but elegant knee-length lilac dress that could be easily dressed up or down depending on her choice of accessories. Tonight she had paired it with a pair of cute white heels and a delicate white cardigan which could be taken off if she wanted to show off the wide-set straps and slightly dipping back line.

Content that she did indeed look presentable, Delia picked up her bag and headed out into the hall. She knocked on Patsy’s door and waited to be invited in before letting herself into the room.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Patsy. Her usually pinned-up hair was down for once. A tailored button-down blouse was perfectly complimented by a flowing ocean-blue skirt which showed off her long slender legs, but that wasn’t what caught Delia’s attention. Standing with her back towards Delia, Patsy was reaching behind her neck to do up the clasp of a necklace. Her blouse was pulled up by the action, revealing a bare mid-rift of creamy pale skin. Delia could see the taller woman’s muscles flexing in her back as she struggled with the clasp. She licked her suddenly dry lips just as Patsy lowered her arms and spun around in frustration. 

“Delia, would you be a dear and help?” She held out the necklace.

Delia couldn’t seem to formulate an answer, but moved forward and took the necklace. Her hands were clammy suddenly and she glared at them as Patsy turned her back to her once more. Delia reached around to position the necklace. Standing so closely, she could smell Patsy’s perfume and feel the heat from her body near her own. Patsy reached up to pull her hair to the side, scooping the soft, golden waves to fall down one side of her neck.

Delia’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight and smell of Patsy’s bare neck before her. She didn’t know why it was affecting her so much. Patsy looked so tantalisingly soft and Delia’s hands shook as she fumbled with the clasp.

Finally, she managed to get it done up and quickly stepped back from the taller woman, fearing that her heart beat was loud enough to hear across the room. She had backed up against the edge of Patsy’s bed and her legs felt suddenly weak. Sitting down, Delia wiped her clammy hands on the bedspread as Patsy finished putting on her lipstick. Just as she had managed to calm herself back down, Patsy turned around and gave her a winning smile.

“Thank you, that clasp has always been too fiddly but I do so like the necklace.” She inspected the simple pendant before letting it hang again, just above the V of her blouse, which Delia noted did scoop quite low. Not low enough for it to be racy, but low enough for Delia to take another gulp of air.

“Delia, are you ok?” Patsy’s brow furrowed with concern. “You seem awfully quiet.”

“Oh,” Delia fumbled for words, “I’m fine, just nervous to meet everyone I suppose.”

 _Good cover,_ she scolded to herself sarcastically. Delia stood and smoothed her dress.

“Now, Miss Mount,” she said with a cheeky glint in her eye, “Don’t forget you’re buying the first round.” She flashed Patsy a dimply grin and headed for the door. 

***

Patsy’s normally efficient pace slowed significantly as the two women approached the venue. Even with Delia there to keep her company, Patsy would have much rather spent the evening having a quiet drink and listening to the wireless with Delia in her room. It wasn’t that Patsy didn’t know how to or enjoy dancing, in fact she was very good at it. She had all the social graces, all the airs of confidence necessary to make a social night pleasant enough. What she didn’t have was the patience to deal with the tittering of the other girls or the entitled young men who assumed any girl was lucky to have their attention.

Her pace had slowed to a shuffling halt at the bottom of the steps. A delicate hand threaded itself through the crook of her arm and Patsy turned to look at the smaller woman beside her.

Delia smiled at her reassuringly, “I’m sure it won’t be so bad. Let’s go in and get a drink. If we lay low enough, we might even be able to avoid Frances!”

Patsy scoffed at the end remark. “I doubt we’ll be able to achieve that, but a few drinks might make it slightly more bearable.”

Setting her shoulders and putting on her characteristic aloof demeanour, Patsy made her way up the steps and held open the door for Delia. In a brief moment of rare frivolity, she bowed with a flourish and flashed Delia a glinting smile. “Ladies first.”

Delia raised an eyebrow at the tall blonde, turned her nose up slightly, and breezed into the building.

The noise of the evening’s festivities floated out through the doors of the function room. An upbeat song was playing and the dance floor was relatively busy. The room was well lit, but a layer of cigarette smoke was already beginning to cloud the ceiling. Delia let out a little cough as the pair entered the thicker air, and pointed to a table in the far corner which was situated in front of a window.

“I’ll go save us that table over there,” She said over her shoulder as she made a bee-line for the spot. 

Patsy threaded her way through the mess of bodies on the dance floor and over to the bar. She purchased herself a gin and tonic, and a glass of red wine for Delia. She smirked to herself as she remembered the small brunette triumphantly informing Patsy of her drink of choice when Patsy had finally caught up to her after breakfast the day before. Of course Patsy had not even tried to beat her, but still feigned annoyance at the defeat nonetheless. 

Making her way back towards the table, Patsy noticed Frances leaning provocatively against the wall and flirting shamelessly with one of the young medical students. _So much for Harry,_ Pasty mused as she tried to make it past them unnoticed. She was really not in the mood to deal with Frances.

“Patsy! You actually showed up after all!” 

Busted. Patsy grimaced and turned to the insufferable woman, masking her distaste for her with a well-practiced expression polite interest.

“Hello, Frances. You look rather elegant this evening. I’m sure Harry here is proud to have you on his arm.” Patsy smiled demurely at the young man, whom she knew very well was _not_ Harry.

The young man shot an insulted look at Frances. “Harry?” He spat, “Who’s Harry?”

Frances froze and the colour drained from her cheeks. She looked at Patsy with wide-eyed disbelief whilst fumbling for an answer. Patsy simply excused herself and continued on her way to the table Delia had reserved, a devilish smirk upon her lips.

“What on earth are you up to? You look like a cat with a mouse,” Delia asked wearily as Patsy sat down beside her. 

“Oh nothing,” Patsy breezed as she gestured towards where Frances and the young med student were still arguing. “I was just telling ‘Harry’ how lucky he was to be with Frances tonight.”

“So that’s the poor fellow she brought along,” Delia replied.

“Not exactly,” Patsy leant in conspiratorially. “That poor fellow is a medical student. Whoops.” 

Both women were laughing heartily at the expense of Frances when another of the young doctors made his way over to their table. Patsy saw him coming first and tried to look as uninterested in whatever he had to say as possible. She had absolutely no intention of getting herself tangled up in the inappropriately wandering hands of any of the young men.

“Evening, ladies,” Came the confident greeting. “I bet you lovely ladies are itching to get out on that dance floor, eh?” He turned to Delia, “Mind if I escort you?”

Delia looked at Patsy in shock. It was obvious she hadn’t been expecting anyone to ask her to dance and she seemed entirely unprepared. Before she could utter an excuse, he had taken her arm and was ushering her from her seat. She looked over her shoulder at Patsy as she was escorted to the dance floor, trying to catch her eye to apologise but Patsy was engrossed in pulling out and lighting a cigarette.

Patsy had mistaken the lack of protest on Delia’s part as a sign that she did in fact want to dance with the young doctor-to-be. The revelation left Patsy feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. Patsy was furious for letting herself be vulnerable enough to be hurt. Why wouldn’t Delia want to dance with a handsome young doctor-to-be? Why should she sit with Patsy and drink when she could be having fun?

Trying to hide the hurt of her seeming abandonment, Patsy had quickly busied herself with a cigarette. She looked up again once she was sure they were nearly at the dance floor and watched with a heavy feeling in her chest as he sent Delia in a twirl. She couldn’t see Delia’s face from where she sat but she watched on as the two joined in the rest of the group dancing to ‘Rock Around the Clock’.

As much as she tried, Patsy couldn’t tear her eyes away from Delia. Despite the hurt, she was captivated. The glossy, thick brown hair swishing and swirling around. The movement of her body in that perfectly-fitting purple dress. The muscles in her silky calves working as she moved to the music… 

And then a pain shot through Patsy like a knife to the chest. The music changed to a slower song, and the young med student pulled Delia in closer to him for a slow dance. 

Patsy couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t watch Delia dance intimately with him. With anyone. She stood abruptly, abandoning the drinks, and strode out of the nearest exit.


	4. Treading on Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia escapes the dance floor and searches for Patsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise that this chapter is shorter than the others but hopefully still just as good to read.
> 
> Thanks as always to Patsy_Mount for her input and support and to everyone who leaves such lovely comments. This is such a fantastic community <3

Despite not actually wanting to dance with the pushy med student, Delia tried to make the best of it. She did find herself having fun dancing along with the rest of the group to the lively music. The song was fast enough that she could actually dance to it, and best of all it required no contact from her pushy partner. She moved along to the music, slowly putting some distance between her and her dance partner. She was aware of Patsy’s gaze on her from across the room. Soon the song ended and Delia started to make her way back across the dance floor towards their table. A slow song had been put on next and she was in a hurry to avoid being asked to dance again. 

As if out of thin air, the young doctor suddenly appeared back in front of her. Without invitation, he swept in and grabbed hold of Delia, pulling her into position and beginning to dance. Delia was caught entirely off guard. She tried to step away but he had a firm hold on her.

“Let me go, please.” Came the terse words.

“It’s alright, love. I’ll take good care of you,” He winked.

“I’d like to return to my friend now,” Delia said more firmly as she tried once again to break away.

“You don’t need her for company. I can show you a better time,” He leered, holding her tighter. 

Chest-crushing panic flooded Delia, followed closely by disgust and then anger. Her eyes sparked fire as the fury rose up inside of her. Quicker than he could see it coming, she raised her small, delicate foot and slammed the pointed heel of her shoe down hard on his toes. He screamed out in pain, reeling back and releasing her long enough to break away from him and put some distance between them.

“I said let me GO!” She hissed in his direction before spinning on her heel and striding away. 

Delia could hear the commotion behind her but did not turn back. She didn’t care that everyone was staring. She didn’t care that she would likely never live this down amongst her fellow students. She needed to get back to Patsy where she felt safe. Her angry steps turned into a jog as she attempted to cross the room faster. 

Approaching the table, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Where was Patsy!? The table was empty and Patsy was no-where in sight. She looked around frantically. Tears started to cloud her vision. She heard Frances say her name but it sounded an eternity away. She certainly couldn’t deal with Frances right now. 

Not knowing what else to do, Delia bolted from the room out of the nearest exit.

***

Patsy paced angrily in the street outside of the function centre. She tossed her third cigarette in a row onto the cobbles and crushed it with the toe of her shoe. Immediately she reached into the pocket of her coat for another but her hands were shaking so badly she could barely open the case. Patsy let out a frustrated grunt and thrust the cigarette case back into her pocket.

Patsy was furious with herself. Furious that she had come to this stupid social when she knew she would hate it. Furious that she had thought Delia would want to sit with her the whole night instead of dancing with any of the many eligible young men. Furious at the all-consuming nausea that had filled her when she saw that slimy excuse for a man pull Delia in close to him.

What was this feeling? Patsy didn’t know why she was so angry, but as she thought again of the pair dancing happily inside, their bodies close together as they swayed to the music, another wave of white-hot rage rushed through her. 

Well she wasn’t going to stick around. The only reason she wasn’t already on her way back to the nurses’ home was because she had picked up Delia’s bag with her own when she abruptly left. She couldn’t force herself to go back in there but didn’t want to leave Delia without it. 

_Too bad,_ she thought to herself, _I’m sure her new friend can buy her drinks for the rest of the night._

On that thought, Patsy turned to go. She had only taken a single step when she heard the doors to the hall bang open and hurried footsteps heading in her direction.

She spun around at the sound and her stomach lurched.

“Delia!?” 

Delia had come running from the building, tears streaming down her face and her cardigan falling off one shoulder. She was heading straight at Patsy and clearly wasn’t looking where she was going. Patsy held out her arms to catch her as she ran past. 

“Delia? What are you doing out here?” She searched the younger woman’s face.

“Patsy!” Came the choked reply as Delia threw herself into Patsy’s arms.

Patsy stood stunned for a second before wrapping her arms tightly around the smaller woman. She didn’t say anything more, just held her and stroked her soft dark hair as she cried. Within a moment or two, Delia had calmed down enough to let go. Patsy rummaged in her bag and handed the sniffling woman a handkerchief.

After wiping her tears and nose, Delia looked up at Patsy. Her blue eyes were wider and more pale than Patsy had ever seen them. The usual sparkle Patsy had come to know was eerily absent. She looked as though she had seen a ghost.

“Delia, what’s the matter?” Patsy implored gently, concern written clearly on her face.

“I’m ok, Patsy,” Delia sniffed and tried to put on a wobbly smile. “Some men just don’t want to take no for an answer.”

Patsy bristled at her words. That searing hot rage came back with a vengeance and her eyes shot up towards the doors from which Delia had appeared moments ago.

Delia saw the change in her demeanour and hurried to reassure her, fearing Patsy would barge straight into the building and give him what for. As much as Delia thought he deserved it, she didn’t want Patsy to be caught up in the gossip and drama that was sure to follow. She placed a hand on Patsy’s arm to dissuade her as the blonde took a step toward the hall.

“Don’t worry, Patsy, he won’t be bothering anyone else tonight.” 

Patsy looked at her questioningly. She was clearly sceptical.

“Let’s just say these little shoes pack more of a punch… or a stomp… than his foot was prepared for.” Delia gave a slightly triumphant smirk as she looked down and inspected her heel.

Patsy was impressed at the spunk of the smaller woman before her. Clearly Delia had more guts than anyone had expected. She looked down at her with approval then glared back at the hall one more time. 

“I hope you broke it,” was all she said. 

Turning away again, Patsy placed her hand on the small of Delia’s back and ushered her towards the direction of the nurses’ home. She was feeling uncharacteristically protective of the sweet little welsh woman beside her. Patsy wasn’t usually one for personal contact but that had seemingly gone out the window when Delia had broken down in her arms. 

As they walked back through the quiet streets with Delia chattering away about some childhood memory, Patsy couldn’t help but feel her uneasiness returning. She was getting too comfortable around Delia. Too involved. Patience Mount didn’t allow herself to rely on anyone for anything, not even companionship. She couldn’t. It opened her up to be hurt and her emotions earlier in the evening were a testament to that. 

Discreetly, Patsy took a small step to the side and created some distance between them. 

_Distance is safety, Patience._

The night suddenly felt just a little bit colder.


	5. Lady-Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of training is over, and it's time for some R&R. Can Patsy learn to let go and relax?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. Thursdays and Fridays are my "weekend" so I didn't get much done. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The first week of training passed in a relative blur as the young women who had enrolled to train adjusted to the rhythm of it. The first several weeks were comprised of long days attending lectures and workshops. The anatomy and physiology lectures in particular left the young women feeling somewhat dazed and overwhelmed with the information that had to be mentally organised and retained. 

Patsy and Delia had fallen easily into a routine and were doing better than some of the other nurses-in-training. They would wake up earlier than most, eat breakfast together and make it to the lecture hall with plenty of time to get their materials organised. Both girls made sure to take extensive notes throughout the lectures and would spend their evenings in either room pouring over them. 

Delia and Patsy were both very capable students, and the added advantage of having a study partner to fill in any possible deficits helped them to excel even further. At the end of the first week, the class was given a small test to see how they were all progressing. Delia and Patsy were at the top of the class.

Despite spending most of their days together, things between Patsy and Delia had not been the same since the night of the social. They still chatted and laughed together whilst studying at night and even still had the occasional cheeky night-cap before bidding each other goodnight, but the air seemed a just a little bit stale.

Delia had noticed the change when they had arrived back at the nurses’ home after the social. They; or more-so _she_ ; had talked quietly the whole way back, regaling Patsy with memories from her childhood in an attempt to push the night’s events from their minds. Patsy had listened attentively but did not share a single tid-bit of information about her own childhood. Delia figured that Patsy was just a private person and didn’t push or ask any questions.

When they had eventually reached their rooms Delia had invited Patsy in for a drink, seeing as they had not actually finished the ones Patsy had purchased at the social. Much to her disappointment, however, Patsy had declined. She told Delia that she had a headache coming on from the excitement and that she was going to turn in early. 

For the first night since arriving, Delia laid wide awake in bed. The silence seemed suffocating without the soothing sounds of Patsy humming to her wireless. Strange how someone can get used to something so quickly. She had slept fitfully around dreams of being trapped and ended up spending the next morning catching up on missed sleep and writing a lengthy letter home to her family. She barely saw Patsy at all until the evening meal, after which they had spent a little time in Patsy’s room planning and preparing for their first day of training.

*** 

Saturday morning dawned with a bright ray of sun shining into Delia’s eyes from a gap in the curtains. There were no classes on the weekend and Delia had planned to indulge herself in a sleep-in. Less than impressed about her earlier than planned wake-up, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to decide if she should get up or try and sleep some more. 

Soon Delia’s mind wandered back to where it usually seemed to end up of late; Patsy. It bothered her greatly that the tall blonde who had been so candid with her those first few days had turned somewhat cold and aloof. The once good-natured joking and comfortable companionship had disappeared as quickly as it had come. They still spent a lot of time together but it just wasn’t the same and Delia was determined to amend that. 

_But how?_

A few moments passed before Delia heard the muffled sounds of Patsy waking. She bit back a giggle as she heard the tell-tale half snort that meant Patsy was rousing from dream-land. Patsy would of course be mortified if she knew, but Delia found it endearing. Like clockwork, the snort was followed by a yawn and the sound of the bed creaking as Patsy stretched and then sat up. A shuffle as she placed her feet into her slippers, and then the sounds of the taller woman padding around in her room, trying in vain to be quiet enough to not disturb Delia. 

Delia had never seen this morning routine, but her imagination had painted the picture for her nonetheless. She had made a habit of lying in bed listening to it all before getting up herself. Strangely enough, Patsy’s predictable routine had become part of her own in a way that felt like home.

Disentangling herself from the blankets, Delia pulled herself from the comfortable cacoon of her bed. She suddenly felt ravenously hungry and decided to make use of an opportunity to try and coax Patsy back out of her reserve. Slipping on her robe, she slipped out into the hall and rapped lightly on Patsy’s door.

“Is that you, Delia?” came the faint voice.

“It’s just me, mind if I come in?” Delia replied as quietly as she could. She didn’t want to wake the rest of the corridor. It was still early, after all.

The door opened and Delia was greeted by a surprised smile and two bright blue eyes that looked as clear as if she had been up for hours. How Patsy managed to look so very awake this early in the morning was a mystery to Delia.

“Goodness, you’re up bright and early for an off day,” Patsy said softly as she opened the door wider to allow Delia to enter. Her brow furrowed momentarily before she added, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all, I was already awake. Someone didn’t close her curtains properly and got an eye full of sunshine this morning.” Delia said ruefully as she rubbed sleep from her eye. 

“So you decided to have a pyjama party with me instead, then?” Patsy raised an eyebrow at her as she looked Delia up and down. She had been surprised to see Delia up so early, but was more surprised that the smaller woman had come to her room before she had even gotten dressed. Or, evidently, combed her hair. The dark brown tresses were hanging freely around her face, even more unruly than when Patsy had seen her the first time. Patsy didn’t notice the smile creep onto her face at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” Delia broke into Patsy’s reverie.

“Hmm?” Pasty looked at her with raised brows.

“You seem awfully amused at my choice of attire this morning.” Delia smoothed her robe as though it were an evening gown and flipped her hair over her shoulder. 

“Your choice of dress is lovely, I was merely admiring how it goes with your hair,” Patsy tried to sound serious but could not. One corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, pulling the other side with it. This elicited a fit of giggles from the brunette.

Patsy needed to change the subject before she lost her reserve. Delia was looking at her with shining eyes and her unkempt hair framing her small face was proving difficult to look away from. Before she had the chance, Delia spoke.

“What do you have planned for your weekend?”

Patsy’s brows furrowed. She hadn’t really given it much thought but didn’t want to admit that. 

“Nothing in particular, why?” She didn’t mean for the tone to sound sharp or snappy, but that’s how it had come out.

Delia looked a little taken aback but recovered quickly. “Well since I can’t go home to visit on the weekends like most of the other girls, I thought I’d venture out in search of some Welsh-like greenery. I have never been to Victoria Park and thought maybe you would like to join me?”

When Patsy didn’t respond immediately, Delia added, “I don’t know London well at all and could use a tour-guide so I don’t end up lost.”

Patsy softened a little at the uncertain tone of the last sentence. She could use some fresh air, after all.

“Well we can’t have you lost and roaming the city alone I suppose.” She paused for a moment and glanced at Delia to see hopeful eyes looking up at her. “Alright, I’ll come along but only if we can stop for breakfast first. I’m famished.”

A wide grin spread across Delia’s face and she jumped up from the edge of the bed where she had sat. 

“Great! I’ll go get changed and knock for you in a moment,” She gushed as she hurried from the room. 

Patsy looked at the closed door through which Delia had just disappeared and let out a sigh. Delia’s enthusiasm and agreeable nature were undeniably infectious and it was proving difficult to maintain indifference.

*** 

 

After a quick breakfast at the tiny café not far from the nurses’ home, the two women walked the short distance to the bus stop and caught the appropriate bus. Delia insisted on sitting on the top level so that she could see as much as possible as they passed through the streets. Patsy dutifully played tour guide and pointed out interesting buildings and streets wherever she could. Eventually their stop was approaching and Patsy rang the bell to signal the driver. 

Alighting from the bus, Patsy looked on in amusement as Delia’s eyes took in the expanse of parkland before them. It was as though she was a child in a lolly shop and she didn’t seem to know where to go first.

“Is it green enough to satisfy your cravings for Wales?” Patsy asked as the pair started towards a pathway.

“It’s so open,” Delia breathed, “Exactly what I needed.”

They walked along the winding pathways for well over an hour. Very few words were spoken but the silence was comfortable as they took in the serenity of their surroundings and the smell of the freshly cut grass. It was a rare moment of peace for both women as they quietly reflected on their own thoughts. As they approached the lake on the eastern side of the park, Delia was suddenly struck with an insatiable desire to feel the earth beneath her feet.

Without a word to Patsy, she ran ahead and found a bench under a large tree. By the time Patsy had caught up, the smaller woman had already pulled off her shoes and one stocking. Patsy paused as she drew nearer, captivated by the sight of Delia pulling off the remaining stocking before she closed her eyes, tilted her face skyward, and pressed her toes into the cool, soft grass. As her feet glided gently over the greenery, a serene smile spread across her face. 

Patsy felt the corners of her own lips turn upwards at the picture before her. She became suddenly aware of the sound of her heart beat in her ears, and shook her head as if to clear cobwebs from her brain. 

_Get a grip of yourself, Patience,_ She internally scolded. _You know better._

Patsy had never had so much trouble closing herself off. She had learned to shut people out as she struggled through her years at boarding school. As well as being a year or two older, she was different from the other girls and was acutely aware of the gaping chasm that divided them. True, Patsy has grown up living a life of privilege in her younger days and had all the social graces and cut-glass elocution with came along with it. However, things had changed. She couldn’t huddle with the other girls and whisper secrets. She had nothing in common with their childish dreams and problems. Patsy’s secrets were deep-seeded. Haunting. Ghoulish. She had locked them away and vowed never to let anyone close enough to her to expose them.

And yet here she stood, completely enraptured by the way Delia interacted with the world around her. Try as she might to stop it, Patsy could feel gaps forming in her walls when she was around Delia. The smaller woman’s confidence and unhindered joy in her surroundings made Patsy envious. She wished she could know that kind of peace. When the two spent time together, Patsy found that she almost did feel a sense of safety and peace, like she could maybe be more like her true self.

Closing the gap between them, Patsy spoke quietly so as to not startle Delia.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Delia’s eyelids flittered open and her shining blue eyes smiled up at Patsy. “I used to take my shoes off as soon as Mam couldn’t see me and walk barefoot through the fields.” She sighed and wrinkled up her nose then. “Mam always insisted I needed to be more lady-like.”

“Clearly advice that was well heeded,” Patsy quipped. 

Delia responded with a cheeky grin and reached for Patsy’s hand, pulling her down onto the bench beside her. 

“You should try it, it’s really very therapeutic.” She coaxed.

“I think I’d rather leave my shoes on, thank you just the same.” Patsy responded.

“Come on, Pats, no one is around to see and I won’t tell,” Delia prodded again.

Patsy glanced at the big blue eyes that were imploring her. She felt a warmth pass through her at the use of the nickname. She had never been called anything but Patsy before, aside from Patience. Patsy never was one for nicknames but coming from Delia with that adorable welsh lilt, ‘Pats’ sounded so natural. So right.

“No one’s ever called me Pats before,” She said softly.

“I’m sorry, it kind of just came out, I—“ Delia began.

“No.” Patsy interrupted her, “I like it.”

And with that, Patience Mount did something no one; including herself; would expect her to ever do. Sliding her feet from her shoes, she carefully removed her stockings and gingerly touched her toes into the cool, soft grass.

It was glorious. Patience Mount felt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to look up some info on what was actually still standing in Victoria Park in the '50's but didn't find much so I'm sorry it was a bit vague.


	6. Put Your Foot In It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy enjoys a moment of freedom as Delia reflects on her most guarded secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise that this chapter is a little short. I hope I've made up for it in fluff.
> 
> Feel free to add me on twitter. Always nice to make new friends! AmesLea92

Patsy tipped her head back slightly, tilting her face up to feel the dappled sunlight on her skin filtering through the leaves of the ancient tree. Her arms stretched out behind her on the bench and held her up and she glided her bare feet tantalisingly over the soft blades of cool grass. It tickled her skin in the most magnificent way that sent shivers of pleasure all the way up to the back of her neck. Patsy had been locked inside her self-built walls for so long that she forgotten what it felt like to feel free. To feel safe. To feel peaceful.

She took in a lungful of air, breathing deeply the scent of the lawn, trees, flowers, and pond that blended together into a freshness one could not easily find in London. A breeze gently blew her fringe around her face and made a swooshing sound through the trees. Patsy kept her eyes closed and listened. She heard Delia take in a deep breath beside her and a rustle as she adjusted her position. Warm, delicate fingers brushed across Patsy’s and came to rest with just the pinky and ring finger atop her own. The sensation sent a tingle up Patsy’s arm but she did not pull away. Instead, a serene smile spread across her lips and her chest felt like a thousand butterflies were trying to fly her away.

If this moment could last forever, she would freeze it in time.

*** 

Delia sat enchanted as Patsy took off her shoes and reached up under her skirt to unclip the stockings. She couldn’t believe that this guarded, perfectly mannered woman beside her was actually about to do what she had suggested and sit with bare feet in the grass. It was such a surprise that she had to mentally stop herself from gasping.

As delicate stockings were slid carefully down creamy white legs, Delia felt her pulse quicken. She knew she shouldn’t stare but she couldn’t look away. Dainty toes dipped cautiously into the grass and Delia looked up at Patsy’s face to catch her reaction. She looked so at peace as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her face to the sky. More comfortable than Delia thought was possible for the blonde woman. Patsy ran her feet over the tips of the grass and Delia watched as a ripple of goose-bumps ran up her arms and neck, causing just a hint of a shiver. A breeze blew a curl of soft blonde hair near her ear. 

Delia took in a deep breath as she tried to quiet her thumping heart. This woman beside her was the most gorgeous creature she had ever laid eyes on. She felt a familiar anguish spread through her chest as she reminded herself that other girls weren’t like her. She could never act on the feelings she was feeling while watching Patsy.

Delia’s hand unconsciously moved over until her fingers brushed over and landed softly on Patsy’s. 

Electricity shot through her body at the touch and she panicked. Her eyes shot instantly to Patsy’s face, bracing for a reaction. Patsy, however, seemed completely unconcerned at the touch. Instead, a soft smile spread across her full, crimson lips. A glint of hope flickered through the crushing feeling in her chest.

 _Don’t be silly, Delia!_ She chided herself, _It can never be._

Delia had been just a girl when she felt the giddy butterflies of her first crush. Catrin Evans was a cousin of Delia’s best friend, Arthur. She had come to Pembrokeshire to spend the summer with family and being a similar age to Delia and Arthur, had spent the entire summer playing outdoors with them. Delia had been smitten with her from the first day she laid eyes on the glossy red-brown braids and dark flashing eyes. Of course at the time Delia didn’t understand her reaction to the meeting, but as time wore on she found herself craving the attention and touch of the slightly older girl. One afternoon as she sat alone, she had even found herself writing their initials inside a heart with a stick in the dirt.

It was a church service that had sent that first crushing feeling down on Delia’s tender heart. She had been allowed to sit with Arthur and Catrin through this particular service, a rare occurrence indeed. The cleric had read God’s commandments to Moses from Leviticus. As he had read the twenty-second verse of chapter eighteen, Catrin had leant over and whispered to Delia, “How can anyone be so _unnatural_?”

Delia really hadn’t given it much thought, being so young. She didn’t understand how love could ever be unnatural, regardless of whomever the feeling was directed at. The rest of the sermon had gone unheard. The weight of the realisation that she had felt something so real which was supposedly so unnatural was heavy on her young mind. Delia didn’t come out to play again until Catrin had gone home.

This same feeling occurred twice more before Delia had finally been old enough to leave home and come to Nursing School in London. She had shoved the feelings deep inside her, afraid that the shame of it would be written on her expressive face and someone would find out. Despite attempts to talk herself into being ‘normal’, Delia couldn’t stomach the idea of dating a man. She had been in such a hurry to leave her mother’s attempts at match-making that she was almost too young to be in nurses training.

And now here she was, sitting on a park bench side by side with possibly the most mysteriously captivating woman of all. The weight of the secret she carried was almost trivial in comparison to the swell of emotions she had begun to feel whenever she was around Patsy. If only things could be different. If only she could find someone like herself.

Shaking off the fog of her reverie, Delia spoke softly to the subject of her musings, mimicking the same words that had been spoken to her moments ago.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Patsy turned her face towards Delia as her long lashes fluttered open. Clear blue eyes sparkled at the welsh woman. Coyly leaning her jaw against her shoulder, Patsy smiled that beguiling lop-sided smile that made Delia’s insides flip-flop.

“I don’t often admit defeat you know, Delia, but I do believe you were right this time,” She admitted sheepishly. “This is rather therapeutic after all.”

“Well I hate to say ‘I told you so’,” Delia teased, “But I told you so!”

Patsy raised an eyebrow at her sassy remark.

“You never know until you try something,” Delia continued her teasing, “I bet you’ve never been barefoot a day in your life.”

Silence.

Patsy felt her blood turn to ice. She sat stock still as the words echoed around her head. 

_”I bet you’ve never been barefoot a day in your life.”_

Eyes flashing, Patsy stood abruptly and gathered her things. She shot a cold stare at Delia.

“You know nothing about my life,” She spat. 

Turning on her heel, Patsy stalked off, leaving a stunned Delia sitting alone and barefoot on the bench.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leviticus 18:22 (Old King James)  
>  _"Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination._
> 
> Oh, how I detest that quote.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia and Patsy struggling through the aftermath of Patsy's outburst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been longer between updates than I intended. 
> 
> Patsy_Mount, I hope a new chapter to read helps improve your day <3

The refreshing breeze that had blown tendrils of Patsy’s golden hair just moments before had picked up into a cold wind. Perhaps it wasn’t so cold, but Delia most definitely felt a chill in the air after Patsy’s icy words. She sat frozen on the bench, staring after the older woman with her mouth hanging slightly open in shock. What on earth had just happened?

The two women had just been enjoying such a special moment of tranquillity together enjoying the cool grass between their bare toes in the solitude of Victoria Park. Delia ran over the events of the past few moments in her mind, trying to figure out if she had missed something.

_”I bet you’ve never been barefoot a day in your life.”_

Her own words echoed around her head, followed by flashes of Patsy’s serene face freezing into an icy stare. Her bright blue eyes had turned a stormy dark grey as daggers shot from them straight into Delia’s soul. Her final words to Delia dripped with anger.

_”You know nothing about my life.”_

Delia hadn’t meant for her comment to hurt the older woman. It wasn’t unusual for the two to rib at each other, in fact Delia had noticed that it was something unique to her relationship with the otherwise standoffish blonde. They hadn’t known each other long but it had made her feel like perhaps she was something special to Patsy. Now it seemed that she had crossed an invisible line of no return. How was she going to make amends if she didn’t even understand what was wrong?

The figure of Patsy was just a speck in the distance now and still Delia had not moved. She shook herself suddenly from her dazed fog and slowly put on her stockings and shoes. Sitting barefoot suddenly felt terribly vulnerable now that she was without Patsy. 

“Oh, Pats,” She breathed, “What have I done?”

Sure, Patsy had been a closed book about her past. She had never once mentioned her family or where she had grown up, but her cut-glass refinement was a dead give-away to the privileged life and boarding-school education she had surely had. Delia just assumed that Patsy was a private person and didn’t wish to share her personal life. It had never occurred to her that there could be anything sinister in her past until now. 

_Stupid girl,_ Delia reproached herself.

With a sigh that seemed larger than her small frame, Delia stood from the bench and began the trek back to the bus stop. The beauty and serenity of the park was lost, replaced now with the fog of self-loathing in which Delia found herself whenever she upset someone she cared about. The fact that she was alone in a city that was still foreign to her should have been her main concern, and yet it was the furthest from her mind.

*** 

The feeling of icy blood pumping through every inch of her body made Patsy feel more cold and alone than she had in a very long time. Granted, she already tried to live as self-reliantly and privately as possible, but even the usual comfort of her self-built emotional walls had come crashing down. She felt exposed. Not exposed to the world around her but exposed to the flashbacks and the trauma she had locked away so meticulously in the darkest corner of her mind. 

She strode in the direction of the bus stop as quickly as her long legs could take her, shoes and stockings in hand. She didn’t care that she was walking barefoot through a park in the middle of the day. She didn’t care that she had a face like thunder. All she cared about was getting as far away from her pain as she could, as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for Patsy, that was futile. The pain she was trying to outrun was rooted firmly within herself. It lay there in wait, ready to seize any hint of vulnerability and drag her right back to her hell.

Patsy couldn’t outrun it, but she could numb it.

*** 

After catching the wrong bus and getting off two stops early when she had gotten back on track, Delia did manage to make it back to the nurses home. She was exhausted but not from the walk. The emotional weight on her chest made it hard to focus on anything but getting back to her room. She walked mutely through the corridors on the way to her room, vaguely aware of the familiar grating voices of Frances and Jennine calling after her as she walked past. She didn’t care that she was beyond rude to not even acknowledge them. All she wanted was to lie down on her bed and wallow in her self-pity.

Finally at her room, Delia looked at the door directly beside her own and considered knocking on it. Her hand moved up to do so but stopped when she noticed the distinct lack of noises coming from within. With a sigh she walked into her own room and flopped down on the bed. She lay silently, one ear cocked towards the wall above her head to listen for the slightest sound through the paper-thin wall.

Nothing.

Patsy was clearly not here but where else could she be? Delia considered going out to look for her but not knowing her way around the city, she didn’t have the slightest clue where to go. No, she would wait here until Patsy returned and try to make amends then. No sense getting lost again.

The afternoon dragged on agonisingly slowly and still no sign of Patsy. The ticking of the clock on the nightstand seemed to echo ever-louder through the silence. The uneasiness in Delia’s stomach was growing stronger by the hour and when curfew came around with Patsy still not back, she found herself pacing from her bed to the door and back again. The matron would be doing her evening walk making sure there were no stragglers in the halls soon. The front door would be locked and Patsy would be unable to come in. Delia began to pray to a God she didn’t believe in to keep Patsy safe and bring her back soon.

Her entreaty was interrupted by a thud, and Delia jumped at the sudden sound. She rushed to her door and out into the hallway to see what the commotion was. There, in a rather awkward position slumped against the wall, was Patsy. She was muttering something incoherent at the structure which supported her, and tried to right herself but came toppling down with another thud. 

Delia rushed to her side and helped the taller woman to stand up. She smelled so strongly of alcohol that Delia wouldn’t have been surprised if she had bathed in it. Grunting under the weight of the inebriated Patsy, she managed to get them safely into Patsy’s room without drawing any attention. She lowered the blonde onto her bed as gently as possible and propped her up against the headboard.

“Oh, Pats, you smell like you fell in a pool of whisky.” She stated quietly, more to herself than to her companion. 

“Youuu don’ know whatisss like.” Patsy slurred.

Delia didn’t respond, knowing it was futile to try to converse with Patsy while she was this drunk. Instead, she pulled her into a sitting position and began the task of getting her settled.

“Come on Pats,” She crooned gently, “Lets get you into bed. You’re going to need to sleep this off.”

Struggling through the task with absolutely no help from Patsy, Delia managed to get her out of her pungent clothes and into a night-dress. Swinging the long legs into bed and pulling up the covers, she sighed in relief that the task was done.

Patsy had fallen asleep the instant her head had hit the pillow. Delia sat on the edge of the bed as she caught her breath from the effort. He slender fingers brushed a stray piece of golden hair from Patsy’s rosy cheek and she leaned down to place a feather-light kiss on the now bare spot. 

“I’m so sorry, Pats,” She whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”


	8. Grey Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia tries to bridge the gap between Patsy and herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave the tension hanging for too long, it was driving me crazy. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks Patsy_Mount for checking this over for me.  
> Thank you to all you lovely people who read and comment and encourage me to continue. <3

Wednesday morning dawned as a rainy and sour day.

“How very appropriate,” Delia muttered to herself as she lay in bed, staring dully out the window. She hadn’t bothered to close the curtains last night. She wouldn’t be asleep when the sun came up anyway so there was no point. 

She rolled onto her back as she felt burning pricks of sadness in them. No tears came, however. She had cried them out in the days prior. The tears were not ones of self-pity or anguish. They were tears of loneliness. Tears of empathy for the only friend she had here in this grey city. 

 

Patsy had awoken late on Sunday morning with a hangover that Delia could only imagine. Dutiful as was in her nature, Delia had already crept in and left a pitcher of water, a glass, and something for the headache on Patsy’s bedside with a short note.

_Rest and recover,_  
_then I think we need to talk._  
_-D”_

The water was consumed and the medicine taken to ease the pounding in her head, but Patsy didn’t glance twice at the note. She wasn’t ready to deal with the emotions she had felt yesterday. She had waited until she heard Delia leave her room before slipping out of the nurses home and wandering the streets of London, ending up back in the dark bar in which she had so successfully avoided her problems yesterday. She wouldn’t get so blindly drunk this time, but at least she could sit alone and dull the whirlwind of her mind. It seemed so much easier than facing her problems.

Somehow Patsy had managed to creep back into her room that night undetected by her neighbour. Unbeknown to her, Delia had fallen asleep fully clothed and on top of her covers waiting for Patsy’s return. She had been so exhausted from the sleepless night she had endured the night before that she simply could not fight off the grip of her exhaustion.

Monday was not to be so easy for Patsy. She had waited until the absolute last minute to make her way into the lecture hall and sat right at the very back nearest to the doorway. She had seen Delia’s perfect bun of dark hair sitting just one row in front of her and tried to sit as low in her seat as possible. At the end of the lecture she had made her escape quickly and disappeared for the evening once more.

By Tuesday, Delia had had enough. 

She waited outside the blonde woman’s door until she was certain they were going to be late for class. Eventually Patsy had made an appearance in the hall, not at all surprised to see Delia standing there waiting for her.

“Patsy-“ Delia had began as she stepped forward.

“Delia, I really just don’t want to talk about it.” Patsy had cut her off. “We’re going to be late for class.”

With that she her long legs had stared her off down the corridor and Delia had to jog to keep up. She wasn’t going to let it go that easily and sat right beside Patsy through the lecture. The tension between them made concentrating difficult. It made no sense to Delia that a moment so short and unintentional had caused such a rift. She still didn’t understand what had been the underlying cause of the outburst.

Patsy could no longer avoid the Welshwoman and resigned herself to the fact. They had spent a tense evening after the day of lectures going over notes in Delia’s room. Patsy was as cordial as was minimally necessary but avoided any attempts made by Delia to change the subject to anything personal. She had excused herself earlier than usual and retired to her room, leaving Delia once again feeling alone and cold, weighed down by a guilt that she didn’t fully understand.

And so, here she was. Another long night of fitful sleep. Another dark morning spent staring out the window waiting for the sun to rise. Another day destined to be spent trying to make amends with Patsy.

Delia decided abruptly.

She was done. She was tired of putting in the effort with someone who clearly didn’t want to open up. She had spent the greater part of four days trying to bridge the gap. Clearly Patsy wasn’t interested and that was the end of it. For the first time since arriving at the nurses home, Delia didn’t lay listening to the sounds of her neighbour waking and starting her day. She got up, got dressed, and got on with her day.

Delia sat in the lecture hall beside a new acquaintance. She had noticed the young woman sitting slightly apart from the majority of the class and had decided that morning to make an effort to get to know her. Upon asking if the seat beside her was taken and sitting down, Delia introduced herself with a warm smile. The slight woman beside her looked uncomfortable at first, but introduced herself shyly as Rose McGrady. In the presence of the upbeat Welshwoman, Rose had quickly relaxed and they had gotten to know a little bit about each other. Rose’s father had moved his family from the north of Ireland to London when Rose was just a small child. Despite making a successful business owner of himself and giving his young daughter all he could, Rose still felt isolated from the rest of the girls her age, and nurses training was no different. Delia felt for the woman, understanding how something as simple as an accent could alienate one from a social group.

So caught up in her conversation as she was, Delia did not notice Patsy enter the lecture hall and scan the room for her out of habit. Upon spotting the customary glossy bun bobbing up and down in animated conversation with the dainty red-head beside her, Patsy had slumped down into her usual seat near the door. A pang of hurt and jealousy shot through her but she shook it off immediately and organised her things.

“Good morning, ladies,” came the voice of the matron as was customary for their morning lecture. “Today we have a special guest in and will not be focusing on the digestive system as planned. Instead, Dr Martin will be enlightening us all on bacterial diseases and treatments.”

A short man with a shining bald head and glasses too big for his nose stepped forward up to the lectern. His brown striped suit nearly blended in with the grain of the wood and his small stature made it difficult to comfortably reach his notes. He rustled his papers and began to present his information with a surprising vigour. He had every student listening attentively as he described in detail the ins and outs of bacterial pneumonia and meningitis. 

All except for one. Patsy.

Patsy sat stock still as her heart began to hammer in her chest. She couldn’t listen to this. Not today. Not when she was still reeling from the onslaught of her traumatic memories brought to the surface four days ago.

“Now, let’s move on to something a little more uncommon.” The small man’s voice cut into Patsy’s daze, “Who can tell me how Typhoid Fever might be transmitted?”

The entire room of people jumped at the banging of the door as Patsy pushed it open with force. Delia managed to turn quickly enough to catch a flash of Patsy’s plaid pantleg as she dashed through the door. Without a word, Delia shot out of her chair and followed after her, abandoning her materials and newfound friend without so much as a backwards glance.

Delia hurried as fast as her small legs could carry her, following the glimpses of blonde hair and the sound of footsteps ahead of her. Still, Patsy made it back to her room in the nurses home well ahead of the smaller woman. Delia rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath for a moment before knocking lightly on Patsy’s door. 

“Patsy…” Delia spoke softly when there was no reply. “Pats, can I come in?”

A muffled sob was the only response and Delia quietly opened the door and let herself in. She found Patsy splayed out on the floor, leaning against her her bed with a shoebox at her side. She was clutching a small object to her chest as she fought back sobs. Delia rushed to her and scrambled to the floor, pulling the shaking figure into her arms as she did so. 

She held Patsy while chocking sobs racked her body. All Delia could do was stroke her hair and kiss the top of her platinum curls, her own tears mingling with the golden strands as her heart broke for the tormented woman in her arms.

“Oh dear sweet child,” She said between her reassuring kisses, “It’s ok. Let it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 is already written and beta'd so watch this space for another update tomorrow!


	9. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy unleashes the memories she has tried so hard to suppress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. I hope I have done this part justice.

Patsy’s body ached from her crying. Her throat felt so swollen that it was difficult to swallow and breathe. Her head pounded with the built-up pressure and she leant deeper into the embrace of Delia. As the sobbing subsided she became aware of the steady heartbeat against her ear and the scent of Delia’s perfume making its way through her stuffy nose. The warmth of the soft body against her head and the strength of the arms holding her tightly was a comfort that Patsy was unfamiliar with, and one with which she was not yet ready to part.

They sat in silence for a time, Patsy snuffling softly as Delia rocked ever so slightly from side to side, stroking the blonde curls to the rhythm. Eventually, she loosened her grip on the taller woman, but Patsy reached an arm out around her waist in a silent plea to not let go yet. Delia had never imagined Patsy to crave physical contact, but clearly she needed it now.

“It’s ok, Pats, I won’t let you go.” She cooed in an attempt to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” Patsy mumbled against the fabric of Delia’s dress.

“Shhh, no need to be sorry, Cariad.” Delia continued her embrace. “Would you like to tell me what’s the matter?”

“I try not to even let myself think about it, let alone tell anyone else.” Patsy’s voice shook. Delia felt her move slightly and looked down to see Patsy gently stroking a delicate, ornate powder compact with the tips of her fingers. She didn’t say a word, just left the air open for Patsy to continue if she wanted to.

The clocked ticked a few more seconds before Patsy began to speak softly and shakily. “This belonged to my mother. I used to sit on their bed as a child and stare into the mirror inside, trying to act just like her as she dressed up for a party or dinner. My little sister used to get so mad when I wouldn’t let her have a turn,” her voice squeaked a little at the mention of her sister.

“Everything happened so quickly when they came and took us. Mother was just pinning up her hair ready for when Father returned home from work. She always liked to look her best for when he arrived home. They barged in so suddenly and grabbed us that I barely managed to stuff this into my waistband. It’s the only thing I have left of life before…”

Delia sat silently, trying to follow where this story was going, but not game to move or speak lest she spook Patsy back into silence.

“A prison of war camp is no place for anyone, let alone a woman and two small children. They made us strip down to our bare undergarments. I was so worried they would see this tucked into my pants, but Mother managed to take it from me and put it in her brassiere just in time. It seems so silly now to have risked hiding it, but at the time it seemed so important to keep this treasure from home safe.”

Patsy went on to recount the horrors of the internment camp. The Japanese soldiers had been cruel and unfeeling, taking pleasure in causing pain and suffering to their helpless prisoners. Leaving them to freeze in the winter cold and suffer the biting insects and flies in the summer. There was no clean water, no bathing facilities, and very little food. The ‘lucky’ ones who were in the camp with loved ones huddled together for protection, but it did nothing to save them from malnutrition or repulsive conditions. Patsy’s mother had been a nurse before she married, and did everything she could to help the sick, frail, and elderly in the camp. Patsy and Grace had been her dutiful sidekicks but there was very little that anyone could do. It seemed that death was inevitable and all that the Mount family could offer the dying was companionship and a small measure of comfort. 

Tears began to flow freely again from both sets of blue eyes as Patsy continued on. Her voice broke as she described the first few cases of Typhoid that her mother had tried so very hard to nurse. With no access to clean water or medicine, death came quickly and agonisingly to those poor souls, and spread like wildfire through the camp. Bodies were dumped in shallow graves and piled with rocks to stop them from washing away in the heavy rains. 

Inevitably, Elizabeth Mount paid the sacrifice for caring as she did for the others in the camp. Within two days of each other, Patsy’s mother and little sister succumbed to the Typhoid that would very soon be their demise. All Patsy could do was comfort them just like her mother had comforted countless others, and watch them slip agonisingly away from her. Very soon, Patience Mount was all alone.

She had blamed herself for them dying, even though he knew there was nothing she could do. As the soldiers roughly hauled their bodies away, the compact mirror had fallen from her mother onto the ground at Patsy’s feet. She had picked it up quickly and tucked it safely away before any of the soldiers could see. Despite being cracked and dirty, it was all she had left of a mother she would never see again.

Patsy choked out a sob once more as she opened the compact and ran a delicate finger along the cracks in the mirror. Her swollen eyes looked as though she had cried all the blue out of them. She caught Delia’s gaze in the mirror, her blue eyes dark with emotion and cheeks wet with tears of her own.

“When we were finally released, I vowed that I would never let another person die in my care. I needed to nurse away the guilt of letting my mother and sister die.” She said with vehemence.

“Where did you even go? You were just a child,” Delia said softly.

“My father managed to find me once he was released from his camp. I remember his hopeful face, almost unrecognisable with the weight he had lost, scanning the room. I called out to him and when he saw me he moved as fast as his frail, damaged body could take him. As he got closer, he called to me, ‘Patience! Where’s Grace and your mother?’ and all I could squeak out was, ‘Gone.’” Patsy closed the case on her last word and tucked her precious treasure back up to her chest.

“He took me with him and we made our way back to where our home had once stood. Of course it was nothing but rubble by then. Father managed to regain his health but his heart could never heal from his loss. I simply was not enough. He sent me off to boarding school back here in England while he stayed on in Singapore, saying it was good for me to get a good education, but I knew it was because he couldn’t stand to look at me.”

“Oh, Patsy,” Delia spoke around the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Patsy pulled away from the embrace and sat upright for the first time in well over two hours. Every muscle and joint in her body ached, but it paled in comparison to the pain she had been feeling in her soul. It felt like a tiny portion of the weight had been lifted in sharing her pain with Delia. Nothing could ever make it better, but now Patsy had someone who understood her a little better for the first time. She felt both relieved and terrified by this. She felt vulnerable.

“You weren’t to know,” She said, pasting on a wobbly smile in an attempt to regain her usual composure. “Just please don’t ask me to go barefoot ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wiki page listed Patsy's sister as Elizabeth, but Elizabeth was also listed as Patsy's middle name. I took creative liberty and made it that Patsy's middle name was for her mother and changed the sister to Grace so that is matched in with Patience.


	10. Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh air does both women good after a day of reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in a new chapter. I'll try and get another up tomorrow as well if I can.

_“Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.”_

― William Shakespeare, The Passionate Pilgrim

 

After the bombshell revelation that was Patience Mount’s past, Delia lay awake on her bed that evening staring up at a greying ceiling. Visions of the horror which Patsy had described swam around in her vision, her eyes unblinking. Delia’s vivid imagination painted graphic images of the guards, of the swampy, putrid camp, of the ghostly skeletons that were the prisoners, crippled by the weight of their seemingly endless hell. Most horrifically, visions of young Patsy; just a small, vulnerable girl with tattered undergarments hanging from her tiny frame as she watched the guards toss her mother and sister into the pit with the rest of the decaying bodies. She could almost smell it. 

Delia’s imagination had nothing on the actual memories which were mirrored on the other side of the wall.

Patsy lay on her own bed, symmetrical to Delia through the thin wall that was their only division. Both lay frozen, eyes wide and staring. Burning and dry. There were no more tears to cry. The reservoir of emotion had been wept empty in the earlier hours of the day. Patsy knew from experience that those tears could never wash the apparitions from her eyes. The sneering faces of the soldiers who guarded her swam in them, the image of her mother and sister’s lifeless bodies eternally etched in her mind like a scar.

An uneasiness swept over them both that same instant and they sat up in unison as though orchestrated by an invisible puppeteer. Delia felt physically sick to her stomach from her thoughts and needed to walk. Meanwhile, Patsy had sat up in a sudden desperate need to flee the suffocating stale air of her room. As if one creature in two parts, they hurried to their doors, bursting through with desperation and each shocked to see the other there. 

“Pats-“  
“Delia-“ Both spoke in unison. 

“I felt the insatiable need for some fresh air,” Patsy explained hurriedly. 

“Me, too” Delia responded lamely, and then, “How about a walk?”

“A walk sounds like just the thing I need.” Patsy breathed as a half-sigh. The air felt so thick in her lungs, and she was desperate to get outside into the crisp cool air.

The pair fell into step side by side and made their way quietly out of the big old door. It was still three hours before curfew, and the evening was invigoratingly fresh without being too cold. Autumn was Patsy’s favourite time of year. The few trees that dappled the streets and parks of London were turning her favourite shade of copper red. She liked it so much that she had sometimes considered dying her hair that very colour. Her autumn woollen coat hugged her waist and shoulders reassuringly and made her feel like her scars were even better hidden beneath it. She relished the sting of the cold air in her lungs when she took a deep breath. On nights like this she didn’t even crave a cigarette. 

Heels from two sets of shoes clicked rhythmically as they walked the cobbled streets with no particular destination in mind. Both walked with their hands in their pockets to keep the chill from bare fingers. The silence between them was comfortable and companionable. Delia sighed quietly as she eventually felt compelled to say something but at the same time, knowing that Patsy needed the silence to calm herself. Instead of words, she slipped her hand into the crook of the taller woman’s arm. She hoped the gesture communicated the sentiment she could not voice. 

_I’m here for you, Pats._

Patsy smiled down at her with a sadness still evident in her eyes, but also relief. Usually she wanted nothing more than to be alone when she felt this way, but normally she wouldn’t consider telling a soul what she had told Delia today. Patsy did not trust anyone enough to consider them a true friend; she had acquaintances with whom it was easy to maintain her façade. She was an expert at breezing through conversation without revealing anything of a personal nature. But Delia was different somehow. With Delia, she felt herself wanting to reveal her inner most secrets. When Delia had quite literally blown into her life, Patsy had immediately felt the change.

The pair had walked quite a notable distance when Delia stopped to sniff the air, let go of Patsy’s arm and veered down a side street. It took Patsy by surprise and she hesitated for a moment before following after her. 

“Delia? Where on earth are you going?” She called after the Welshwoman.

Delia looked over her shoulder and slowed a little to let Patsy’s long strides catch up. 

“I’m starving. Care for some haddock and chips? My treat,” They had reached the junction of the next street and she gestured to the small corner shop. How she had managed to sniff out its location was nothing if not amusing to Patsy.

The hopeful glint in the smaller woman’s blue eyes was enough to encourage Patsy to acquiesce, despite the fact that she still was not even remotely hungry. Neither had felt up to the evening meal earlier, but Patsy knew that Delia’s insatiable appetite would have won out eventually. For a petite woman, she could really put away her food.

Delia disappeared into the pokey little shop while Patsy waited outside. Out of habit more so than a desire for one, Patsy lit up a cigarette and absentmindedly puffed the smoke into rings and clouds. They appeared to glow in the light from the shop against the dark background of the back street from which they had just appeared. 

The streets were mostly deserted at this time of night, but Patsy heard a faint groaning of someone in pain. She stepped forward from the wall she was leaning against and looked around but could not see anyone. Leaning back again and bending her knee to put her foot against the wall, she resumed her smoking. Again, she heard the cry, this time more urgent. It was a woman groaning, followed by the sounds of a man trying in vain to reassure her.

“It’s alright, Hildy,” His voice wavered in a less than confident manner. Patsy could tell now that the voices were coming from the flat above the shop across the street. 

“Don’t you bleeding tell me it’s alright! You did this to me-eeeee-EEEEEAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” The woman yelled angrily but was obviously cut short by a wave of pain. Patsy bit back a smirk as she realised what the commotion was about.

More groaning and more attempts made by the young man to reassure his labouring wife. 

“Standing there gawking at me ain’t gonna get this bleeding thing out of me! Go out to the telephone box and call the midwife again, she should have been here by now!” the woman screeched, closely followed by the figure of a lanky young man emerging hurriedly from the door to the left of the shop. As he sprinted toward the telephone box, he was nearly collected by a bicycle carrying a rather rotund nun as she peddled around the corner. 

“Mr Timms? What in Heaven’s name are you doing out here when your poor wife is upstairs alone?” Chastised the older woman as she pulled her kit from the back of the bike and bustled towards the door to the flat. “Well I’m here now, anyway. Go make yourself useful and put some water on to boil, but stay away from that delivery room now. It’s no place for a man.” The voices drifted into inaudible mumbles as they ascended the stairs. 

Just as the excitement ended, Delia emerged from the shop carrying to tightly wrapped newspaper parcels. She looked around and quickly spotted where Patsy was leaning against the wall, a bemused expression still on her face.

“What’s so amusing?” Delia eyed her companion wearily and held out one of the packages.

“Oh nothing, I was just watching some poor fellow receive an earful from a nun,” Patsy explained, as though it made perfect sense.

Patsy chuckled at Delia’s perplexed expression and was about to answer when another wail emanated from the second-story flat window, followed by words of encouragement from the no-nonsense sister.

“I see,” Delia said slowly as she turned the other direction. “How about we leave them to it and find a nice spot to sit and eat this before it goes soggy.”

Patsy chuckled at the wide-eyed expression peeking out from the dark fringe of her small friend. Apparently she was in no particular hurry to witness, although only audibly, the emergence of a new life. They were both so new to nursing that the whole ordeal did seem rather daunting and intimate.

Continuing on their aimless walk, the pair found a small patch of grass with a lone tree and bench on the corner of a street next to some sort of hall. They sat to eat and as the packages were torn open, the smell of the hot, salty food drifted up Patsy’s nose, making her stomach defy her by growling. Mortified at the complaints of her insides, Patsy placed a hand on her abdomen in a futile attempt to hide the noise. Delia burst into a characteristic fit of giggles at the sound, and leaned over to steal a chip from Patsy’s packet.

“I thought you might be hungry,” She smirked triumphantly as she chomped into the crunchy chip. 

Patsy shot her a squinting glare, but the tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her just as her stomach had done. She shifted her newspaper package over on her lap slightly and guarded it with her hand. 

“If you’re so perceptive as to know the state of my stomach, Miss Busby, then why would you steal my sustenance when you have your own perfectly good helping on your own lap?”

“Because,” Delia replied as she vied for another of Patsy’s chips, “There’s more crispy ones in yours and they’re my favourite!” She flashed a winning smile that distracted Patsy enough for her to dive in and steal the crunchy chip she had been eyeing off.

Patsy laughed merrily, her earlier sadness momentarily forgotten. Delia truly was a breath of fresh air in Patsy’s life.

“Delia Busby, you are something else!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you always to the wonderful Patsy_Mount for being my beta and encouragement. Also to Echo7 and everyone who leaves their lovely comments on my work. You guys are the reason I keep on writing.


	11. What a Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic at the riverside turns into a bigger ordeal than Delia planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this late at night and haven't had it beta'd but hopefully there's not too many mistakes.

A rather crisp cold had descended upon London. A subtle reminder that Summer was indeed just a memory as the occasional icy breath of Winter blew in a warning of its impending arrival. Children playing in the street had ceased to fight their nagging mothers about keeping their coats on, and were now beginning to sport an array of itchy woollen winter-wear to gripe about instead. The few trees which lined streets and park areas had begun to shed their cloaks of brilliant vermilion and gold, leaving branches stark and bare and footpaths covered in mushy dead leaves. 

Lectures were more than half way through now, and the trainee nurses were edging closer to their upcoming first weeks on ward placements. They just had received notice of where each student was to be placed the subsequent hum of nervous excitement filled the corridors and lecture hall. It seemed that everyone was happy enough with their posting, although Delia was more than a little disappointed to discover that she and Patsy would not be on the same ward. Delia had been assigned to the palliative care ward, whilst Patsy was to be in male surgical. Just to add salt to the wound, Delia’s fellow classmates placed on the palliative care ward consisted of Frances and her current flavour-of-this-month favourite follower, Kathy Marks.

Luckily for Patsy, she had been placed with the young Irish girl, Rose, whom Delia had introduced her to a few weeks ago. To Delia’s surprise, Rose and Patsy had gotten along rather well from the start. She shouldn’t have been so surprised, really, seeing as Patsy had all of the social graces from her upbringing to ensure that she would be polite and cordial to the girl. Still, it was a relief to know that at least one of them would have a friendly face on the ward with them, even if Delia didn’t. 

The weekend had approached once more, marking the end of yet another week’s lectures. This one had been particularly long winded and Delia’s arm and hand were cramped and sore from filling page after page with notes to revise for the upcoming tests. Keen to get some fresh air and do anything but writing, she had convinced Patsy to travel with her the relatively short distance to the docks along the Thames for a picnic. It seemed like an eternity since she had had a picnic, and her persistence with the whimsical idea seemed the only reason Patsy had finally relented.

Pulling on her woollen coat and wrapping a thin scarf around her neck for added protection, Delia bundled up her small bag of things and shuffled excitedly to Patsy’s door to knock for her.

“Come on in, Deels, I’m nearly ready.” Patsy called through the door.

Delia let herself in and fussed about impatiently while Patsy sprayed a copious amount of lacquer onto her hair.

“Pats, your hair is going to be stuck that way forever if you add any more!”

“Just as well,” Patsy replied as she sprayed and pressed down a stray piece. “I’d rather it stuck this way forever than blow all about while we sit in the cold wind at the docks.”

Delia scowled at the tone at the end of her companion’s sentence. If it wasn’t so unbecoming, she may have poked her tongue out. Instead, she made her way over to Patsy and before the older woman could see it coming, snatched the can from her hand.

“Delia!” Patsy exclaimed with a scowl.

“’Delia’ nothing, Pats! You’re just procrastinating now.” Delia huffed back at her.

Patsy shot Delia one more mock glare in the mirror and spun around with a cheeky glint in her crystal blue eyes.

“Well, well, well, Miss Busby. Aren’t we impatient?” She said with a characteristic fish-hook smirk.

“Very,” Delia retorted as she shooed Patsy towards the wardrobe. “Now hurry up and get your coat on or I’ll go on my own!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Patsy muttered under her breath as she shrugged on her coat.

“What was that?” Delia eyed her shrewdly.

“Oh, nothing,” Patsy smiled as she breezed by on her way out the door. “Just that you need me to keep you from getting lost.”

Before Delia could open her mouth to respond, Patsy had already started up the corridor with her long strides. 

_Show off,_ Delia thought to herself as she closed the door and hurried after her.

Patsy shot a look over her shoulder and chuckled teasingly. “Come on, Deels. I thought I was the one holding us up?”

The two women hadn’t gotten far from the doors of the nurses’ home when they rounded the corner and very nearly tripped over a figure sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. It took a moment after regaining her balance for Delia to realise who it was that she had almost trodden on. She offered out a hand and helped the small woman up. 

“Rose?” Delia’s voice was a higher than usual with concern. “Whatever are you doing out here?”

Rose tried to hide a snuffle but was it was clear that she had been crying. She offered the two women a watery smile that wobbled at the corners. 

“I was just reading a letter from Da,” She said as she held up a small piece of thin paper. “He’s gone back to Ireland for a wee while.”

“Has something happened?” Patsy asked, “You seem awfully down for it to be as simple as a holiday.”

Rose shook her head and shrugged her shoulders slightly, offering up one hand in a gesture of confusion. “I don’t really know,” She began slowly, “Da says that Nana has been unwell and needed some extra help, but didn’t give me any more details.” Another sniffle. “I guess I’m over-reacting but I just feel so far away.” 

Delia stepped forward and placed a consoling arm around the slight woman’s shoulders. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say but didn’t want to leave Rose alone to be upset, either. Even though they had gotten along adequately in the past few weeks, Delia wasn’t convinced that Patsy would appreciate her inviting Rose to join them today. As she was pondering what to do or say next, Patsy managed to save her the trouble.

“I’m sure if it was serious your father would have said more,” Pasty attempted to smile reassuringly. “How about you join us for our picnic? It might help keep your mind off the worry.”

Rose hesitated for a moment and flicked her gaze between Patsy and Delia as if to gauge their sincerity. Seemingly satisfied that the offer was in fact genuine, she nodded shyly and moved forward from her position of leaning against the wall. The trio moved together towards the bus stop, talking quietly amongst themselves.

The pier wasn’t the same as standing in front of a wild and untamed ocean, but Delia appreciated the smells and sounds of the water nonetheless. The three women made their way to a set of benches near the water and sat down with their satchel of goodies. The cold wind made their cheeks rosy and noses pink, but the fresh air felt wonderful in their lungs after a week of remaining mostly indoors. 

Delia had packed an array of sandwiches and fruit, and had even had the foresight to pack a flask of hot tea to keep them warm from the inside out. Even though she had not planned for their extra guest, there was enough food for everyone to be comfortable, and when they were finished eating, the three sat side by side on the bench and watched the comings and goings of the boats and barges, sipping on sweet tea.

Rose had appeared to relax almost back to normal and was chattering away about their upcoming placement when a cry sounded from somewhere down the pier a way.

“Ryan!” Came the shout, “Quick, get a rope or something!”

“What on earth has happened?” Patsy wandered aloud as she stood to see where the commotion was coming from.

“Ryan! Try and keep your head up! HELP! Someone help him, he can’t swim!” The shouting broke into hysterical crying.

“Someone’s fallen in the river!” Rose exclaimed as she flew from the bench and into a run towards the man.

“Rose, wait!” Delia and Patsy called together, abandoning their picnic items to run after her. The commotion was not far away and by the time they had caught up, Rose was standing on the edge of the pier, hurriedly discarding her coat and scarf. Before anyone could say or do anything, Rose dove headlong into the water and towards the struggling figure splashing hysterically.

A small group of dock workers had arrived shortly after the women and had managed to find a rope to bring along. Delia could hear them speaking to the panic-stricken man but was too focused on watching Rose in the water to hear what they were saying. She was unaware that Patsy had left her side until she saw her, rope in hand, tying an expert knot into the end before throwing it directly to Rose, who was now struggling to hold her own head up as she held the struggling body above water. The boy grabbed hold of the rope like the lifeline that it was and clung to it with his leftover strength while the men hauled him up out of the water. He emerged over the edge, coughing and spluttering, his body shaking violently from the cold water. 

Patsy had flung the rope once more and the men were pulling once again, this time plucking a soggy, half frozen Rose from the water. As she reached safety, a cheer rose up from the crowd that had formed.

“Delia, hand me that coat. We need to get Rose warm as quickly as we can,” Patsy’s voice snapped Delia out of her trance. 

Shaking her haze away, Delia sprang into action and scooped up the coat, rushing over to help Patsy remove any excess wet clothing that could be discarded without exposing too much skin. Wrapping the coat around the shaking frame, Delia rubbed her arms and shoulders vigorously to encourage blood flow. There was a commotion around the boy but Delia was too afraid to look in that direction. 

“You saved my boy,” Said the man who had raised the alarm, “How can I ever thank you?” He began to sob as he knelt in front of Rose, clinging to her hand. Rose couldn’t answer through her chattering teeth.

“You can call for an ambulance,” Patsy cut in, “Your boy and Rose will both need a thorough check over. That water is dreadfully cold and the danger isn’t over yet.”

Her gentle orders seemed to do the trick, as the man snapped out of his emotional outburst and jogged to the nearest telephone box.

Patsy left Delia to attend to Rose while she went and checked on the boy until the ambulance arrived. Only minutes seemed to pass before they heard the ambulance arrive, and soon the young boy was bundled up in a mass of blankets in the back of the ambulance, his distraught father right beside him, not game to let him leave his sight. 

A second ambulance quickly followed and hurried Rose off in much the same fashion to be checked over by the emergency department. Dumbstruck by what had just occurred and the subsequent eerie stillness once the ambulance had disappeared, Patsy and Delia stood looking down the street. Neither moved for a moment until Patsy placed a hand on Delia’s back and let out a long sigh. Turning to face her, she looked at Delia with her eyebrows arched and eyes wide. 

“Well,” She said, no sign of anxiety left in her voice, “What a picnic.”

Delia did not answer immediately. Her throat felt tight from the ordeal, even though both the boy and Rose were seemingly unharmed. She mumbled what she hoped was an appropriate reply and wandered over to their abandoned bench to pack up their things. Right now, all Delia could think about was getting home. Suddenly she didn’t want to be near the water anymore.


	12. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Patsy's turn to be the caring one when Delia has a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Echo7 for all of your help with this chapter.

Patsy woke slowly and groggily in the grey darkness of pre-dawn. She wasn’t quite sure at first what had been the cause of the disruption to her sleep, but quickly realised it was the frosty air. For some reason she was partially uncovered and the cold was seeping in from her left side, making her shiver. She pulled at the covers and simultaneously rolled from her back onto her right in an attempt to get as much blanket as possible on her chilled skin. As she shifted she became suddenly aware of her proximity to the edge of the bed, but before she could ponder why, she was faced with a mouthful of hair.

Spluttering to remove the offending tendrils from her lips, Pasty raised herself up on one elbow and blinked in the darkness, trying to make sense of the situation. 

Suddenly it all came back to her.

~

Patsy felt herself being sucked from a deep sleep in such a way that it made her dizzy. Something had woken her and she fought with the swirling of her head in alarm. What was it? Was she in danger? Within moments the spinning had subsided and she lay perfectly still, barely breathing lest she draw attention to herself. It was an old habit from the camp, a lasting paranoia. Patsy could not kick the automatic panic response at being woken suddenly even after all these years. It had taken her nearly two years to even get used to having an alarm clock.

A bead of sweat trickled from her brow and into her hair line that made her skin prickle with goose-bumps. There was nothing but silence and darkness, and Patsy finally managed to reach out a tentative arm and switch on her lamp. As the light burst forth, the dark, ominous cave gave way to her familiar room bathed in the warm glow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Patsy pulled her covers up a little further and switched the light back off. It must have been a noise in the street that woke her. Her heartbeat was still loud in her ears but she closed her eyes to try and go back to sleep.

A noise stopped the haze of sleep from coming over her again. What was it? She couldn’t hear clearly with the covers pulled over her ear like they were. Cocking her head to the side out of the blankets she listened for the sound.

“Someone, please!”

The words seeped through the wall, clear as day. They sent a shudder down Patsy’s spine as she realised they were coming from Delia.

“Help me… Mam please!”

Patsy sat bolt upright in bed. Delia was having a nightmare. Should she go wake her? Could she bring herself to startle the poor girl like that? 

Sobbing came through the wall next and Patsy’s body moved her to the door before her mind could tell her otherwise. She quickly but quietly crept into the hallway and through Delia’s door, not even bothering to knock. Muffled sobbing drew her to the bed like a magnet despite the fact that she could not see in the dark room. Patsy was glad that their rooms were mirror image otherwise she would have had to fumble through with just the faint light of the street to guide her. Reaching the bed, she knelt beside it, the cold rough floorboards biting into her knees as she realised she had not bothered to pull pyjama bottoms on under her long sleeved flannelette night gown. 

Cold knees were the least of her concern right now. She reached out a shaking hand and stroked Delia’s forehead ever so gently, like her mother used to do for she and Grace when they were unwell or scared. Delia’s forehead was wet with perspiration and her damp fringe clung to Patsy’s skin. She was shaking and her legs twitched wildly under the covers.

“Delia,” Patsy whispered. 

More sobbing and indecipherable words.

“Delia,” she said a little louder this time, placing her other hand on Delia’s abdomen to shake her just a little. 

“Mam!?” Delia’s eyes flew open and she sat up slightly onto her elbows, panting.

“No, Delia, it’s me. Patsy.” Patsy placed a now cold hand on Delia’s clammy one, hoping to reassure her.

“Patsy...” Delia breathed as she sat further upright. “What are you doing here?” She was still clearly a little hazy.

“You were having a nightmare. I came to check on you,” Patsy replied softly. She didn’t want to embarrass Delia, nor did she wish to wake the other trainee nurses in the area.

Delia had shaken off the fog and her breathing had slowed to a more normal pace. She reached over and flicked on her lamp, making both women blink in the sudden brightness. Patsy felt her chest clench as she took in the sight before her.

The pale, clammy skin of Delia’s face made her blue eyes look excessively large. Even the colour in those had faded to the grey-blue of a duck egg. The usual sparkle that glinted in them was alarmingly absent and it made Patsy feel uneasy to see her this way. Dark tendrils of hair were stuck like sticky seaweed to the nape of her neck and her forehead. Her top was rumpled and the bottom two buttons had come undone. Patsy also noticed as she went to place a comforting hand on Delia’s back that the pyjamas were soaked with sweat. In the cold air of the Autumn night, the damp clothing was making Delia shiver. 

“Delia you’re freezing!” Patsy exclaimed quietly.

“I-I’m not so c-cold. I just n-need to lie back down.” Delia’s chattering jaw betrayed her words. 

“Not before you change into some dry pyjamas,” Patsy put on her best nurses voice and walked over to the wardrobe to source a clean pair. She quickly found what she was looking for and handed them to Delia, who fumbled with shaking hands to unfold them. Patsy watched her struggle for a moment before taking them gently from her again. Abandoning her usual restraint, Patsy sat behind Delia on her bed. As quickly and gently as she could, she helped Delia slip out of her wet shirt and into the dry nighty she had found. Delia managed to slip off the bottoms under the covers and discarded them onto the floor before leaning back against Patsy in exhaustion.

Unsure what to do with the newfound closeness of the position, Patsy froze for a moment. Clearly Delia needed the closeness and comfort right now and Patsy didn’t have the heart to push her away. Instead, she leant back against the headboard and rested her chin on the dark locks of the Welshwoman who lay with her back and head on Patsy’s chest. They lay for a moment in silence, the rhythmic rise and fall of Patsy’s breathing seeming to rock Delia into a state of pure calm that contrasted the earlier terror like night and day. 

“Patsy?” Delia whispered into the stillness.

“Yes, Deels?” Patsy responded, her cheek rubbing gently against the softness of Delia’s hair as she spoke.  
“I’m sorry for waking you, but I’m so glad you’re here.” Delia sighed a sigh that seemed too big for her little body. 

“It only seems fair, now, doesn’t it?” replied Patsy as she thought back to her break down after the bacterial diseases lecture just a few weeks ago. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, contemplating if she should ask the looming question. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Your dream…” She asked gently.

Delia shifted slightly but did not pull away from their position. She seemed entirely comfortable to stay there as long as Patsy would allow. “I do, but not right now,” She said. “Right now I just want to sit here for a while… With you.”

Patsy was still struggling with the nearness but did not refuse her request in her time of need. They had grown closer in the weeks since Patsy opened up to Delia about her past, but there was always a nagging voice in Patsy’s mind. It warned her not to trust anyone, not to let anyone in. Not to let anyone mean anything to her lest she face another loss. 

Still, this warm little body resting against her made Patsy feel like perhaps she could let one more person in. Delia seemed to be different to anyone Patsy had ever met and she felt powerless to fight their connection. The internal struggle was enough to send a girl mad.

“And Pats?” Came the quiet, this time sheepish voice.

“Yes?” Patsy asked a little wearily.

“Can you call me Deels again?”

A fish-hook smile played across Patsy’s lips. “Of course, Deels.”

~

Patsy sighed and lay half propped on her elbow for a while longer, unabashedly drinking in the sight of the sleeping woman as the sun made its leisurely appearance. The long, rich tresses of dark brown hair had come loose of their fastening and fell all around her in beautiful rebellion, so much like the woman herself. A ray of golden sunlight had made its way through a crack in the curtain and illuminated one peachy cheek and the sweet, slumbering pout of her full lips.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She had only meant to stay until Delia had nodded off again, but right now she didn't mind. If things were different, Patsy could have laid here forever. The warm body pressed against the front of her own felt so gloriously natural to her. Patsy allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence and slipped her arm ever so gently around Delia’s waist, committing the feel of her to memory before she would have to pull away. Delia stirred slightly at the touch, her hand grabbing Patsy’s and pulling it tighter around her, a smile flittering across her still-sleeping face. 

_Oh, dear, sweet Delia. The pain it costs for me to love you,_ Patsy thought in anguish. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the feelings she had been fighting against until this moment. Hadn’t been willing to admit that she was falling in love with a girl she could never have. Patsy’s deepest darkest desires would never be known to anyone, for she didn’t dare to hope that another woman could feel the same way. Especially not someone as perfect as Delia. 

Breathing in the smell of her, Patsy placed a feather-light kiss on Delia’s soft hair before slipping out of the bed and back to her own. Her bed felt so cold and empty in comparison. Funny how one could get so used to something so quickly.

With a huff, Patsy rolled onto her side to catch a few more moments of sleep. _Well, you’d better get re-used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you always to miss Patsy_Mount for your support. You are most certainly never redundant. :P <3


	13. Nightmares and Daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written as in the same time frame as the previous, but from Delia's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I made this chapter longer to make up for it.
> 
> Thank you to Patsy_Mount and Echo7 for their support and advice, as well as all of you who read and comment.

_The smell of the grass and wildflowers filled her nostrils, the occasional stray fleck of dander making her sneeze. Rebellious strands of dark hair poked out from loose braids that were shining in the rays of a golden Summer sun that beat down on her back. She lay on her stomach, elbows propping her up, her chin resting in her hands as she peeked around the boulder. Stifling another sneeze, she crouched lower in an attempt to remain invisible._

_Where was Evan anyway?_

_“FOUND YOU!!!” the excited shout startled her and she squealed as she looked up to see Evan standing proudly on the boulder, grinning down at her._

_“Arrhh,” She grumbled loudly in exasperation as she rolled onto her back. “I thought for sure I had you this time. How’d you even get up there so quietly anyway?”_

_Evan sat on the smooth rock and slid down to where she was lying, flopping down onto the grass so the tops of their heads were nearly touching. This position had become their special game._

_“I’m just too good,” He shrugged confidently, then pointed to the sky. “That one’s a turtle, see the long neck?”_

_Looking up from her perspective, the ‘turtle’ was of course upside-down, but that was the game. “That’s no turtle, it’s a pirate ship! That’s the mermaid on the bow, not a neck.”_

_Evan laughed gaily as he often did and rolled onto his stomach. She followed suit and the pair lay facing each other now, kicking their legs about in the air behind them. She took in his sandy hair, unruly like her own, and the freckles that were spattered across his nose and cheeks. His hazel eyes were looking at her intently, shining with mischief._

_“What are you looking at me like that for?” She asked with her nose scrunched up. She fiddled distractedly with a particularly long blade of grass, plucking it from the ground and tying it in tiny knots._

_Evan idly picked a small yellow flower and poked the stubby stem through her braid near her ear._

_“You,” He said simply with a dimpled smile. He tugged lightly on the end of her long braid._

_“Well quit it, you’re being weird again.” She huffed, flicking her hair back over her shoulder, out of reach._

_“There’s nothing weird about finding a girl pretty,” Evan replied, his dimples becoming impossibly deeper and his eyes more mischievous. “Or kissing one,” He continued, and quick as a flash planted an awkward kiss on her frowning mouth._

_She spluttered in horror and wiped her mouth roughly with the back of her hand, her small girlish face like thunder as she sat up._

_“Evan Hughes, how dare you!” She squealed in disgust. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to be your girlfriend?”_

_“Well why not? We’re together all the time anyway,” He mumbled, clearly insulted by her rejection._

_“Because boys are gross.” She jutted her chin out defiantly._

_“So if you think boys are gross what are you going to do? Kiss a_ girl _?” He laughed at his own apparent hilarity._

_“I’d rather kiss a girl than kiss you,” She spat as she stood and took off down the hill at a run._

_“Delia, wait!” He scrambled after her, “Come on, Delia, don’t be like that!”_

_His calls blatantly ignored, Evan picked up his speed, long boyish legs running easily through the ankle-deep grass to close the gap. Delia was fast but he was faster. His scuffed up shoes pounded the ground in rhythm with his ragged breaths, sending up a haze of dust and pollen in his wake. Delia wasn’t making it easy for him but sure enough the gap was getting steadily smaller._

_So intent was he on watching his target, that Evan didn’t see the patch of rocks jutting out of the grass. In a blur, his shoe snagged on a rock and sent him crashing in a high-speed heap to the ground. The world spun momentarily as he blinked up at the blinding sun, trying to comprehend what just happened. He sat up slowly and was greeted with a sharp pain in his temple where he had apparently taken a portion of the impact in his fall. Putting his hand to the pain, he felt the sticky dampness of blood from the stinging graze. His mother was going to have a pink fit at him for this, he was sure._

_Footfalls pounded their way over to him from the direction he was running, coming to a skidding stop right beside where he sat. Delia puffed for a moment to catch her breath before she could speak._

_“Are you alright? You’re bleeding!” Her face was pinched with concern, all frustration from their disagreement dissipated. She pulled up her skirt and tried to tear at her slip to make a makeshift bandage but wasn’t strong enough to rip it._

_“I’m fine, just a graze is all and some bruises to show off tomorrow.” He offered her a slightly unconvincing grin and winced his way through standing up. “Of course, nothing you couldn’t fix by kissing it better,” He added, back to his cheeky self._

_“You’re impossible, Evan.” Delia huffed again and turned to walk with him back towards their neighbouring farmhouses. Both families had smallholdings in the countryside not far from their hamlet of a town._

_“Mam’s going to have my guts for garters when she sees me,” Evan mumbled as he brushed at the grass stains and dirt smears on his arms and once-crisp blue shirt._

_“We could go for a swim in the pond if you like? It would rinse away some of that dirt,” Delia suggested._

_“That’s not a bad idea. Besides, it’s getting awfully hot.” He smiled down at her from his ever-increasing height advantage. He just couldn’t help but rub it in that he was taller than Delia despite her being six months older, much to her annoyance._

_Within moments they crested the hill that looked down on the pair of houses that they each called home. Nestled in a dip with a small grove of trees on the edge was their pond. It wasn’t very big, more like a dam, but was big enough and deep enough to keep two eleven-year-olds busy splashing and swinging into from a rope on a tree branch that hung far enough over the water’s edge. At the sight of the refreshing water, they broke into an easy jog and hurried to their designated changing spot._

_Delia’s mam was getting more and more adamant that Delia cease this behaviour, saying she was too old to be stripping down to her slip and going swimming with a boy. ‘It’s just not lady-like, Cariad’ she could hear her mother scolding in her mind. Scold as she might, Delia’s mother was yet to get it through to her exasperating daughter, and this was no exception._

_With a tentative dip of his toe at the edge of the water, Evan, satisfied that it wasn’t too cold, stripped off his shirt and made a beeline for the ‘diving rock’. The large rocky outcrop jutted out over the deepest part of the water and was their favourite place to jump from if they were feeling daring. Delia, meanwhile was still struggling with her dress buttons. She cursed under her breath that she had worn this particular dress today. It was a menace to get undone._

_She looked over towards Evan, about ready to admit defeat and ask for his help, but stopped in her tracks as her gaze reached him._

_Standing on the edge of the diving rock, Evan was standing strangely. The water was rippling in the sunlight and it was shining into his eyes. Before Delia could speak, he half stumbled, half fell into the water with an almighty splash._

_Delia was frozen for what seemed like an eternity but couldn’t have been longer than a second or two. She heard his name being screeched from her throat but it sounded miles away as she ran for the water and dove towards where he had disappeared. In the time it took her to reach him he still had not surfaced. Something was very wrong._

_With a gulping breath, Delia ducked her head under the water and swam deeper, finding the fabric of Evan’s shorts and pulling with all her might. Somehow she managed to get his head above the water but he was jerking and flailing erratically, making it impossible for her to keep them both up for air for long. She knew she couldn’t let him back under, and fought with every fibre of her being to hold his head up._

_Her lungs were burning and her arms shaking with the effort as he continued to convulse. She managed to kick up against the bottom a few times, getting her head up for just long enough to take a breath and scream for help._

_“HELP!!” She screamed._

_A gasp._

_More water._

_More kicking. Gasp._

_“SOMEONE HELP ME!!”_

_Again, she went under._

_“Help me!” She thought she caught sight of her mother running to the edge of the water but couldn’t stay up. Down she went again, kicking with what little strength she had left until she came back up._

_“MAM, PLEASE!”_

_Darkness._

_Light filtered against her eyelids and she blinked at the brightness. Suddenly great wracking coughs shook her body and she vomited what seemed to be purely water onto the ground. It took a moment to realise where she was or that her mother and father were bent over her, tears streaming down their faces._

_“Evan!” She croaked, trying to scramble to a sitting position._

_“Lie still, Cariad.” Her father drew her tiny frame into his lap. Sobs shook her body uncontrollably._

_“Where’s Evan?” She managed through her choking sobs. No one answered her._

_“Mam?” She looked to her mother with terror in her eyes._

“Delia?” That didn’t sound like her mam.

“Delia?” Louder this time.

“Mam?” She croaked, feeling like she was being spun around in a dark place.

“No, Delia, it’s me. Patsy.” A cold hand covered Delia’s clammy one and she struggled to sit up.

“Patsy...” Delia breathed as she sat further upright. “What are you doing here?” The haze was lifting and she was beginning to recognise her surroundings once more. The nurses home. That means…

“You were having a nightmare. I came to check on you,” Came Patsy’s soft reply.

Not a nightmare. The nightmare. She had been plagued by it for years after Evan’s death but it hadn’t reared its ugly head in a long time. The events at the pier the day before suddenly sprung to mind. Of course.

Delia reached out into the grey darkness and switched on her lamp, causing both women to blink in the sudden brightness. She sat motionless for a moment, her breathing finally slowing to a normal pace. She felt a hand on her back as she began to shiver from her sweat-dampened pyjamas in the cold air.

“Delia you’re freezing!” Patsy exclaimed quietly.

“I-I’m not so c-cold. I just n-need to lie back down.” Her chattering jaw betrayed her words. 

“Not before you change into some dry pyjamas,” Patsy insisted, quickly finding a clean, dry nighty and handing it to her. Delia took it but was shivering so hard she was hard pressed just to unfold it. Blessedly, Patsy took it gently from her and without a word, helped her out of her wet things and into the new. 

The effort of removing her wet bottoms had Delia exhausted, and she leaned back against the warm comforting body behind her. She knew Patsy would probably move away but right now she just needed the comfort or being close to her. To her surprise, Patsy instead rested her chin on Delia’s head and sat silently, rocking her with the moment of each breath. A calm settled over Delia. She felt safer than she had ever been. The heat of the body behind her made her skin tingle. She was acutely aware of the smell of bleach and Patsy’s shampoo. Of the small, soft breasts pressed against the back of her neck. Of each breath from the other woman cascading down from the top of her head like waves of feather-light touches. 

Why couldn’t they lie like this forever?

“Patsy?” Delia whispered into the stillness, afraid to break the spell.

“Yes, Deels?” Patsy responded.  
Delia felt Patsy rub her cheek against her hair as she spoke. The sensation sent butterflies to her belly as much as the previously unused nickname did. She had never been called Deels before. Somehow it sounded perfect coming from Patsy.

Regaining her composure, she sighed. “I’m sorry for waking you, but I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“It only seems fair, now, doesn’t it?” Came the gentle reply. Patsy paused for a moment in hesitation. “Do you want to talk about it? Your dream…” She asked quietly.

Did she want to talk about it? She had tried for so long to put it behind her and yet here it was, back to haunt her. However, if she was going to talk about it with anyone, she would want it to be Patsy. Right now, though, she didn’t want to do anything but lie here with the woman she was too scared to admit she had fallen for. 

“I do, but not right now,” She said finally. “Right now I just want to sit here for a while… With you.”

Patsy mumbled an agreement into her hair and gingerly placed her arms around Delia’s smaller frame in a loose embrace. Delia marvelled at the goosebumps that prickled her skin at the touch and thanked a god she didn’t know if she believed in that the room was cold enough to be used as an excuse. She relaxed further into the embrace and tried to commit it to memory. One more thing would make this moment perfect.

“And Pats?” She asked a little sheepishly.

“Yes?” came Patsy’s weary reply.

“Can you call me Deels again?” She sucked in a small breath and held it a moment.

“Of course, Deels.”

With a flip flop of her internal organs and a contented sigh, Delia let herself relax completely.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but a few hours later, she awoke to a strikingly empty bed. She had never shared a bed before and yet here she lay feeling the loss of Patsy’s presence as keenly as she would the loss of a limb. Rolling onto her back, Delia stared up at the ceiling and willed her body to remember the feeling of Patsy's embrace. If she closed her eyes she could still smell her lingering scent and feel the butterflies flutter in her belly. Even if she was sure there was no way Patsy could feel the same way, that didn't change the daydreams in the privacy of her mind.

 _“So if you think boys are gross what are you going to do? Kiss a girl?”_ Evan’s voice rang around in her mind.

“If I thought she would kiss me back…” Delia breathed to the emptiness.


	14. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy has too much time on her hands to sit and stew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I seem to repeat myself every time but I'm so sorry for the delay in updates. Work, study, interstate family visiting, all that fun stuff.
> 
> Thank you to my lovelies, Patsy_Mount and Echo7 for being just generally awesome.
> 
> Comments are always cherished so please, comment away!

Rays of sunlight beamed through the open window and illuminated curling ribbons of smoke as they floated lazily upward from the cigarette. Two long, slender fingers held it there, forgotten, as she sat staring at everything and nothing in particular on the far wall of the spotless room. As by habit, ruby red lips took a long drag of the cigarette before sending a rolling cloud of smoke skyward. 

Beside her on the bedside table, an ash tray held the evidence of a long morning spent in agonising contemplation. As the cigarette in hand burned closer to her fingers, she stubbed it out in the tray without breaking eye contact with the wall. Reaching for the packet, she found it empty, and her reverie was interrupted. Patsy blinked several times, her dry eyes the product of her preoccupation. 

She glanced somewhat disinterestedly at the small clock on her bedside. Half nine. She had been sitting here for hours. After returning from Delia’s room she had made a futile attempt at getting some more sleep. The bed felt cold and empty and she could not settle. Visions of dark hair in glowing sunlight, deep blue eyes like oceans, and the warmth of a small, soft body against her plagued her mind and made her chest ache. She had to get up. Had to do something else or she would either explode from the pressure in her chest or run into the room next door and make a fool of herself. Neither of which were acceptable, and neither were typical of Patience Mount. 

Patience Mount didn’t get emotional. She didn’t let anyone close enough to allow any kind of pain. She had lost all those she had held most dear. Her mother and sister were lost to the world entirely in death, but, probably more painfully so, her father was lost only to her. He pushed her away by choice in a way that cut deeper than the pain of death. The monthly deposits into her accounts that sat untouched and the ruse that it was for her best interests did not even begin to mask the truth of it. Her father didn’t want to see her. Couldn’t bring himself to love her. At first she was disgusted in his cold indifference, but in time she had unintentionally become just like him. Aloof. Emotionally isolated. Distant.

_Distance is safety, Patience._

She let out a soft groan and pressed her cold fingers into her eyelids. Blonde waves which were normally preened into perfectly pinned curls at the nape of her neck were tumbling untamed about her shoulders as she leaned her head back against the dark wood of the bed head. Long legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles. She shifted them and was greeted with the ache of limbs that had been sitting unmoved for too long. 

It was unlike Patsy to sit and stew like this. Usually she would occupy herself by cleaning so furiously she might very well scrub a hole in the floor, however she had not even been able to keep her mind on that task today. Her already perfectly spotless floor was safe for another day. It was Sunday so there were no classes, and not even any upcoming tests to revise for. Aside from waiting for the subject of her thoughts to awaken, the only thing on Patsy’s agenda today was to visit Rose this afternoon.

All the girls had gathered in the common room last night as the matron informed the class of the excitement from the day. She had received word that while Rose and the young boy were both uninjured, they had developed a concerning cough and would be kept in hospital for observation. The room had been buzzing with excited gossip over the courage of the small Irish heroine. Girls who had never even spoken a word to Rose suddenly pretended to care a great deal, and some even went so far as to shed tears at their ‘friend’ being in such danger. 

Naturally, Frances did not take well to the fact that the attention of the room was not currently revolving around herself, and had rolled her eyes, even daring to remark, “What a stupid thing to do. They could have both drowned, and for what? A bit of attention?”

Patsy had felt rage swell from her toes and had opened her mouth to shut Frances down with some sharp words of her own when she saw Delia slip from the room, white as a ghost. She had followed after her, but Delia had brushed it off as being tired and pulled out the bottle of whisky for what she called a well-deserved drink. Patsy didn’t push it any further. The two had downed more than the usual amount of alcohol before Delia declared herself to be so tired she could sleep for a week, and Patsy had left her in peace. The whole thing had seemed strange, but if anyone could appreciate deflection, it was Patsy.

Clearly, the events of the early hours of this morning confirmed that something was indeed troubling Delia. Patsy could only theorise on the possibilities of what the Welshwoman had endured to be so shaken by the events of yesterday. It bothered her immensely. Patsy was strong, she was used to pain and the wall she had had to build to stop her from crumbling under the weight of it. Delia was too sweet to have ghosts, too happy and full of life to have something weighing her down. 

Patsy knew that if she could protect the smaller woman from ever feeling hurt or scared again that she would. But why did she care so much? Why couldn’t she put Delia in a box in her tidy life and keep her there like everyone else? Her cautious, over-rational mind screamed for her to do so, to build her walls ever higher and not let that beautiful, effervescent woman in. Every fibre of her being argued vehemently, however. Her heart pounded at the mere sight of her and every touch sent electricity like ripples along her skin. Patience had found herself in love.

The last time Patsy had felt any inkling of a prick from Cupid’s arrow was back in boarding school. One could hardly call it love, though. A mere school crush was all it could be described as now that she was older. Patsy had been fifteen at the time, and was older than her classmates because of the camp. Clare Baldwin-James had just gone fourteen when she transferred from another school into Patsy’s class. She had hair as black as a raven, cut into a straight bob about her shoulders. Flashing green eyes like cat’s eyes could pierce holes through whomever might get on the wrong side of her, but she was never feisty with Patsy. In fact, she had been the only one who seemed entirely undeterred by Patsy’s resolve to stay isolated from the others. 

***

Clare was different in general from the other girls. In a way it was a comfort to have someone a little more like herself to talk to, but Patsy was still bearing the scars and nursing the emotional wounds of her time in the internment camp. She was brusque and unwilling to offer anything of herself to the younger girl, but then again Clare had never asked her to. She would seek out Patsy in their free time and simply sit quietly beside her. No questions, no small talk, just silent companionship. After a few weeks of this, Patsy had come to expect the lanky figure and would be waiting, looking through her peripherals for the familiar, well-worn shoes to appear beside her. 

It had taken Patsy entirely by surprise when the soft, still somewhat unfamiliar voice had broken their silence one day.

“You can talk about it, you know.” 

Patsy’s head had snapped up and blue met green as they stared at each other a moment. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patsy’s gaze flickered away, betraying her words.

There had been silence for a moment and Patsy thought they might have mercifully returned to silence, but that was not to be. Apparently, Clare was merely choosing her words carefully.

“You weren’t the only child to see the inside of a camp.” Clare whispered almost inaudibly before getting to her feet and walking away. Patsy hadn’t looked up to watch her go. She was frozen in place. 

Clare had come back the next day and the next. Same place, same time, same silence. A whole week had passed before Patsy summoned up enough courage to speak. She had practiced in her head all she wanted to say, all she had been longing to talk about with someone since she had hit safe soil. When the opportunity arrived, it did not go to plan. All she could mutter were a few loaded words.

“I lost everyone.”

A slender hand had covered hers and both girls sat again in companionable silence that spoke louder than any words they could utter. They had spent the next few weeks in much the same way, but as time went on their silence was replaced by shy chatter, then by giggles and private jokes. Patsy had noticed the butterflies in her stomach whenever Clare would huddle close but was either too stubborn or too naïve to give them any great thought. That was until the rumours started amongst the other girls. Whispers and sniggers behind hands in the corridors of the old school building had Patsy on edge, she couldn’t stand being the focus of any attention. Clare seemed completely unaffected by it. 

One spring day, Patsy had entered the dining hall in time to see Clare staring stone-faced down at one notorious rumour-mill of a girl. 

“Surely there’s _some_ boy you fancy at St Joseph’s,” She had fished, flicking a smirk over her shoulder to her posse of mindless followers. 

“Actually Georgia, some of us are actually busy caring about our grades. Having a boyfriend isn’t the be all and end all.” Clare had said coolly.

Green eyes had looked up at that moment, locking immediately with Patsy’s. The words had been simple enough but had burned holes in Patsy’s chest like a scolding knife. Panic set in and Patsy turned and fled the hall. 

For three days, Patsy had managed to remain holed up in her room under the pretence of a stomach bug. Her room-mate had been shifted elsewhere for quarantine reasons, leaving Patsy in solitude to stew and hide. Clare had come to see her; had knocked several times but had given up after receiving nothing but resounding silence. When at last the nuns had insisted Patsy return to classes, the silence continued. Patsy shut herself off from Clare entirely. The pain in her friend’s eyes matched the ache in her own chest, but Patsy was afraid. Afraid and ashamed of the feelings she had for the girl with the piercing green eyes. 

***

With a huff, Patsy sat upright and swung one foot off the bed and onto the floor. She picked at a piece of unidentified fluff on her plaid trousers and paused for a moment before standing and straightening her clothes.

She refused to let that happen again. Something needed to be done or things were bound to get out of hand. Patsy squared her shoulders and set her jaw. She knew what she had to do but the coming weeks were not going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too moody or slow for you all. I promise I'll pick up the pace... eventually.


	15. Something's Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hasn't been an easy week for Patsy. Perhaps a coffee catch up can help set things right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I cannot seem to keep my promise of updating more often. I am so sorry guys.

The bitter smell of coffee flooded Patsy’s senses as she stepped into the familiar shop. The bell above the door announced her arrival with a merry jingle as she shook herself slightly from the cold wind she had just escaped. She looked over in the direction of their usual table and was greeted by the familiar dimpled smile that filled her with warmth. 

Patsy couldn’t help but admire how lovely Delia looked today. Shining brown tresses had been swept up high but, instead of the usual bun, were allowed the freedom to bob up and down with every movement in a lively pony-tail. Her sunny yellow dress made the day seem brighter somehow and shining eyes held their mischievous sparkle, peeking out from beneath her fringe. Patsy’s heart clenched a little as she made her way over. She had to stop doing this to herself.

She could feel the gaze of the smaller woman appraise her as she approached, and took her time to shrug out of her coat and remove her scarf before sitting down.

“Hello, Deels,” She said with a cheery half smile. “That colour looks lovely on you.”

Delia dipped her head momentarily before finding something all-consuming about her hands that required in-depth study. “Thanks, Pats,” Was all she said, still looking down.

Another pang of sadness hit Patsy’s chest. She was beginning to think it would be best if she just built up those walls again and try to bury her emotions. It had been over a week since the incident at the pier and after a morning spent in reflection the day after, Patsy had decided something needed to be done. Throughout the entire week, she had made an effort to be extra attentive to Delia whenever it was safe to do so. Of course, she had to be incredibly careful when they were out of the relative safety of their rooms, but she had taken as many opportunities as she dared to touch her. Brushing arms as they walked or putting a reassuring hand on Delia’s whenever it seemed appropriate. She even went so far as to tuck a stray piece of dark hair back behind a dainty ear one evening while they were alone in Patsy’s room. 

Patsy had been optimistic enough to hope the Delia might have felt the same way. She had hoped that her seemingly insignificant gestures might be understood as the hint that they were intended to be, but if anything, it had created a chasm between them. At first, Delia had seemed receptive to the touches and kind words, but as days went on, she seemed to withdraw ever so slightly further each day. Yesterday, after another disappointing evening the night before, Patsy had reached the conclusion that Delia mustn’t feel anything for her after all and had spent the day being brusque and unavailable, claiming she was too busy to chat and too tired for their usual pre-curfew visit. It must have had some kind of impact on the Welshwoman because when Patsy returned from the bathroom the next morning, there had been a note on her bed.

_Meet me at our usual place this afternoon.  
-Deels_

The class had been split into groups for ward tours before the commencement of their first placements next week. Patsy had been disappointed this morning to find Rose unexplainably absent from their tour and was immediately concerned. Not only did this leave her to spend the entire time with the agonisingly boring Sally Norton, but Patsy had a feeling that the young Irish girl might not return at all. 

The evening before last, she had witnessed the tiny woman receive another letter. One which, judging by the draining of colour from already-pale skin, Patsy had deduced was from her father. Patsy had hesitated for a moment, wanting to offer some reassurance to Rose, but frozen in place not quite knowing how to do so. Later, there had been the muffled sounds of sniffling and the wet assault of a handkerchief coming from the Irish woman’s room, but by that point Patsy had not been feeling particularly sympathetic as she hurried past to her own room to lick her wounds after another brush off from Delia.

The absence of Rose had plagued Patsy all morning, and she mentally chided herself for letting it bother her. She was getting too soft, too vulnerable. Delia was to blame for the cracks in Patsy’s walls and now she was seemingly pushing Patsy away again. Infuriating woman. Still, poor Rose had looked so small and anxious, so much like Grace, that Patsy had felt both a draw to comfort her and another painful stab of loss. This internal conflict of emotion versus self-preservation was becoming increasingly exhausting.

Realising her mind had wandered yet again, Patsy snapped herself back to the present. Her eyelids twitched ever so slightly as she scrutinised the woman sitting before her who was now busying herself fiddling with the sugar jar.

“How was your ward tour?” The blonde offered.

Delia met Patsy’s gaze and placed the sugar back in its rightful place. She looked relieved to have something to talk about, and it seemed there was something entirely less neutral was on the smaller woman’s mind. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what.

“Actually, it was really interesting. I think the placement is going to be hard but also somewhat rewarding. That is, if Frances and Kathy don’t give me too much grief.” Delia replied, then with a glint of her eye, added, “Mind you, they’re too busy bickering with each other to pay me any mind.”

Patsy raised an eyebrow in question.

Delia leaned in across the table conspiratorially, whispering, “It seems that a certain Mr Adams has been trying to have his cake and eat it, too.”

“The junior doctor with the black hair?” Patsy smirked in amusement. She knew that both girls had their eyes on the doctor-to-be but had not realised he had been trying to court both at once. _Serves them right,_ she thought to herself.

Delia nodded with a giggle, her impossibly shiny hair bouncing with her mirth.

“Well I, for one, don’t particularly like cake,” Patsy’s mouth twitched a cheeky smile at her own remark.

“Me either,” Delia’s blue eyes met Patsy’s again and a flicker of something other than mischief at the joke shared crossed her features. A seriousness so brief that Patsy couldn't sure if she had seen it at all.

Delia sat up straighter again and took a slow sip of her steaming hot tea. Patsy looked down at the cup that had been waiting for her when she had arrived. Coffee, just like she had wanted. It seemed like Delia already knew her better than anyone. She reached for the sugar and busied herself stirring in some sweetness.

“So, how was yours?” Delia asked before taking another sip.

“My tour? Achingly boring, I’m afraid. I don’t think Male Surgical is going to be my life’s calling. It almost certainly won’t be Sally’s either. She was almost too shy to walk through to the nurse’s desk let alone interact with a patient.” Patsy sighed at the next part of her recount, “Rose didn’t turn up.”

“I’m not surprised,” Delia responded. At yet another questioning look from Patsy, she continued, “I heard her crying the night before last when I walked by her room. She had received another letter from her father. Her grandmother passed away and now her father is unwell, too.”

Patsy sighed. She had presumed something like that had been the case, but had sincerely hoped she was wrong. “The poor girl,” She said before taking a sip of her bitter, milky brew. “She’s gone to Ireland then?”

“She was beside herself trying to decide what to do last night, but I was in with her for two hours and she hadn’t made up her mind. I guess she’s decided to go.” Delia replied.

“It appears so,” Patsy sighed again. Red lips hovered, slightly pursed, near the rim of her cup. The tendrils of steam from her hot coffee curled up and swirled around with each breath as she savoured the warmth of the cup in her hands.

Delia had been in Rose’s room that night, then. Patsy had been waiting in her room, stewing over the aloof behaviour from Delia and secretly hoping that a small brunette would peek her head through the door to check on her. As the time dragged on, it became apparent to Patsy that Delia must not care like she had hoped, which only added fuel to the already rebuffed fire that ate at her stomach. She had come to the conclusion that enough was enough and she was done trying to express herself to Delia, but this changed things. Delia had been caught up comforting their friend. She had been heading that way shortly after Patsy had. Maybe she had come after her… Maybe- 

“Pats?”

Patsy blinked dry eyes and focused on the woman before her again. She hadn’t heard her speak, but must have missed something. She looked up at the brunette, eyes questioning and cup still poised in her hands at her mouth.

“Are you okay, Pats?” Delia’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Top notch,” Patsy tried to paste a convincing smile on her face but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. By the way Delia was looking at her blankly, Patsy knew she was less than convinced. She sighed again. “Really, Deels, I’m quite all right. I suppose I’m just a little tired from the excitement of the morning on the ward.”

“Well you haven’t had a good night’s rest in several days, either.” Delia said, her voice sounding rather like a worried mother.

Patsy tilted her chin to the side in mild amusement, her eyes taking on a sparkle of mischief normally only seen in those of the Welshwoman.

“And how, might I ask, do you know that? I haven’t mentioned anything.” The fish-hook smile crept across her porcelain features as she watched Delia squirm. A blush was creeping up the neck from the collar of the sunny yellow dress, her ears and cheeks turning a charming shade of pink that Patsy found utterly irresistible. 

“Deels, have you been eavesdropping on my sleeping habits?” Patsy raised her eyebrow at the younger woman again, knowing full well how it affected her when she did so. 

“Well,” Delia began in her defense, the pink tinge glowing ever brighter. “The walls _are_ very thin…”

At Patsy’s attempt at stifling a laugh, Delia sat up straighter and jutted out her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “You can’t honestly say you’ve never listened to me moving about in my room. I heard you giggle once when I stubbed my toe on the bed.” 

“I would never,” Patsy feigned innocence.

“Fibber,” Delia teased back, never breaking her ocean-blue gaze from the blonde. She was met with narrowed eyes followed by a cheeky smile that confirmed her accusation. 

The spar had been won, and Patsy chuckled at her own defeat. There was no hiding from this woman. Delia had her well and truly pegged and she was okay with it. It was the thing she found most terrifying about the Welshwoman, but also the most comforting.

Patsy’s resolve to once again shut out her feelings for Delia had been dissolved in a matter of moments as the familiar jesting had returned after several days of slightly more strained conversation. The ache in her chest turned to a warmth in her abdomen as Patsy listened intently to the story Delia was now telling her about her day on the palliative care ward. She was enraptured by the way those blue eyes sparkled when she talked, the way that glorious hair jumped about as though it were alive with the excitement of the day, the way she couldn’t seem to get a story told just right without using her hands for emphasis. Right at the moment, everything seemed okay again, and Patsy allowed herself to relax.

That is, until the bell above the door rang out it’s cheery little jingle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the support. I have made some very special friends here and you are all just so lovely. But of course you are, you're CtM fans!


	16. Running into the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our mystery stranger is revealed, and it's caught everyone by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Finally I managed an update in less than two weeks. Here's hoping I can keep that up.
> 
> This chapter has a lot more dialogue than I usually write so I do hope that isn't too tedious and that it's well enough in character.

The bells above the door sang their merry, jingling welcome as another patron graced the small coffee shop with their presence. The Jukebox chose that very moment to cease its serenade, leaving the relatively empty room feeling suddenly quiet aside from the clatter of dishes from behind the counter. The gentleman who entered took his time to shed his warm outerwear, his fingers cold and fumbling. _I wish I had remembered my gloves,_ he mentally scolded himself.

He walked the short distance to the counter to order and glanced with relative disinterest at the baked goods displayed there. He wasn’t hungry, just cold. The siren’s call for a nice, hot cup of coffee was what had led him to call it quits on his endeavours for the day and seek out an establishment of some kind. The East End wasn’t anything like he was used to, and he was dubious as to the cleanliness of such a cafe. Nonetheless, the cold had won out and here he had found himself. He cast a quick gaze about him and was satisfied that this particular shop appeared to be clean and well maintained. Just as well. He would have to remember where it was for future reference. With any luck, he would be done in the East End within a day or two, then he could return to the comforts of his more civilised lodgings.

Spying a secluded single table to one side of the dining area, he made his way over. He may as well take his time and enjoy the break. There was not much more work he could do for the day anyway. 

***

Patsy was sat with her cup resting in one hand on the table, listening intently to the tales of Frances and Kathy’s numerous disagreements of the morning. Delia had a way of making even the simplest of anecdotes engrossing. Her welsh lilt made the stories seem livelier, and her laugh sounded like music. Patsy could listen to her talk forever. 

The bell jingled, and with it came a rush of cold air through the door as another customer escaped the outside chill. Patsy didn’t pay any mind to the newcomer, so engrossed was she in the company she was with. Delia, who was situated at a slightly more convenient angle to the door, glanced up but didn’t miss a beat in her sentence as she dismissed the presence as unimportant. The Jukebox released its last crackly note and fell to silence, making the room feel suddenly less private. Their usual table was situated in the far corner, tucked away from the others in a spare space. The Jukebox was right nearby, acting as a sort of screen which added to the privacy of their spot. 

Delia’s voice dropped at the sudden change in ambient volume and she frowned unconsciously at Patsy from the interruption. Patsy smiled at her and stood, straightening her checked button-down shirt. She noticed with satisfaction that Delia’s gaze fluttered over her figure as she did so, and she felt a warm blush begin to creep into her cheeks. She had chosen this shirt and the black trousers especially for their meeting. Delia had said once before how she liked the plaid on Patsy.

Turning, she took a step towards the Jukebox, looking down at her toes in a moment of rare bashfulness. Upon taking the second step, Patsy was met with a solid force. Her breath left her lungs with an ‘ooof’ as she made impact, and strong hands found their way to her shoulders to steady her as she stumbled backwards. Embarrassment burned at her cheeks as she realised she had collided head on with a stranger. Carelessness was not something Patsy was known for. 

“Oh! I’m dreadfully sorry,” Came two voices in unison. At her own matched words spoken in a clipped baritone, Patsy’s head snapped up in surprise. The man before her was tall; tall enough to make her feel substantially less so. As her gaze reached his face, her blue eyes widened even further, this time in recognition. Crystal blue met familiar warm brown. Years had changed him, turned his boyish features into those of a man she might find handsome if she were so inclined, but the eyes remained exactly as she remembered. 

“As I live and breathe…” He said breathlessly, staring back at her with the same look of disbelief that Patsy was sure was mirrored on her own face. She opened her mouth slightly to respond, but no words came.

“Patience Mount? Do my eyes deceive me?” He had yet to let go of her, and was now holding her at arms-length.

“Jack? What on earth are you doing here!?” Her incredulity raising her pitch to sound almost accusing.

“Well, I could ask you the same thing,” He eyed her curiously. “I certainly didn’t expect to see _you_ around _here_.” His nose wrinkled slightly as he looked around himself again.

Patsy bristled at his words and stepped back, freeing herself from his grip. 

“And what is that supposed to imply?” Her eyes flashed. “I’ll have you know that I live _around here_.”

“Hey, now, no need to get defensive,” He held up his palms to her in surrender. “I simply mean that it’s a surprise to see you here! A wonderful surprise, I might add.”

Patsy eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer, trying to gauge his sincerity, before offering a small smile. “It’s nice to see you too, Jack. It’s been a very long time.”

A moment passed before Patsy suddenly remembered her manners and her companion. Delia was sat to the left of Patsy in her seat, her tea cup forgotten and a stunned expression on her usually cheery face. Patsy turned to her, trying her best not to show the dread of this meeting on her face.  
“Delia, I’m so sorry,” She said, but was met with a stone face. “This is Jack Barlow,” She swiveled between the two, “And Jack, this is Delia Busby, my very good friend from nurse’s training.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Busby,” Jack dipped his head in greeting, his hat tucked under his arm. “I do apologise for interrupting your outing.”

Delia was entirely unsure what to make of this exchange. Who was this man and why was he so familiar with Patsy? She thought Patsy had always been one to keep to herself and yet here suddenly someone who seemingly knew her well popped up out of thin air. It was clear from his RP accent that this Jack Barlow was from the same social background as Patsy herself. 

Remembering her manners, Delia stood and smiled at him with what she hoped was her most graceful greeting, although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Lovely to meet you, too, Mr Barlow.” She nodded back to him before turning her gaze to Patsy and then back again. “I take it you two are old friends?”

Patsy opened her mouth to answer, but before she had the chance to utter a sound, Jack was answering.

“I suppose you could say we were school chums. Well as much as one could be in a boarding school, that is. Us boys were called upon whenever Miss Archer felt that the girls needed some fresh toes to crush.” He said with a mischievous grin.

“I beg your pardon!?” Patsy jumped in incredulously, “I believe you’re confusing whose toes received the beating here.”

Delia looked back and forth between the two, still not fully understanding what was going on. Jack turned back to her and smiled again. 

“She’s right, if I must be honest. I was always a dreadful dancer and Miss Mount’s toes did suffer for it,” He admitted sheepishly. “However, she never did give me much time to try and learn. ‘You learn by doing, now get to it,’ Miss Archer used to say. Well, I’m sure you know what Patsy here can be like. I didn’t start calling her _Im_ -Patience for no reason.”

“Jack Barlow that is hardly fair! You make me out to be a tyrant. I wouldn’t have had to be if you would have gotten on with the dance lessons and stopped fooling about.” She scowled at him now, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment or anger, Delia could not tell which.

“Well unfortunately for you, I was the only one tall enough to be your partner, so unless you wanted to dance with someone only up to your chin, you should have been grateful.” Jack answered, refusing to back down.

Patsy was not to be beaten. “I’d rather have danced with someone shorter than me than with your enormous clumsy feet. Besides,” She added with a glance towards Delia, “Then I could have been the one to lead. Now if you’ll excuse me,” She said as she stepped around him, towards to the Jukebox. She did not finish her sentence, but busied herself selecting a song. 

Jack leaned down slightly towards Delia. “It seems that time hasn’t changed things,” He said in a low voice, “She’s still as fiery as I remember. It’s a shame she’s a blonde; fire red hair would have matched her fiery temper much better.” He winked at Delia with a cheeky grin.

Delia chuckled at his comment and immediately felt a little guilty for finding Patsy’s frustration amusing. She looked at the older woman as she pressed the button and the Jukebox hummed to life again. Delia expected Patsy to turn back towards them with eyes like lightning and a face like thunder, knowing full well how she could hold onto her ire. When Patsy did turn back, though, her expression was entirely amicable. She closed the short gap once again and gestured an arm towards the table where they were sitting prior to the interruption.

“Now, Jack, if you’re quite through with filling Delia’s head with untruths about me, would you care to join us?” She said, followed by, “You don’t mind, do you Delia?”

“Not at all,” Delia replied congenially, regardless of the fact that she felt intruded upon. She had planned for the two to take a walk once they were done with their drinks, but she supposed that could wait. 

“Well, it would be my pleasure,” Jack replied cheerily. He retrieved a chair from a nearby table and seated himself at the spare side of the small table Delia and Patsy had claimed as their own. The space felt far too small for three, and Delia couldn’t help but muse to herself that three really was a crowd. She glanced at Patsy, trying to gauge what the blonde was thinking, but her passive expression gave nothing away. Was she happy for the interruption to their quiet time? 

The afternoon began to tick by as Jack regaled the two women with some amusing stories from when he and Patsy had been partnered up for ballroom dance classes, much to Patsy’s discomfort, as well as tales of his post-school days. He explained that he was in the East End of London for work purposes. He was working as a lawyer for a firm in Kensington, and had been sent to gather some evidence documents from a source in the near vicinity, though he could not divulge any more details than that. 

From where Delia sat, watching him talk and the interaction between he and Patsy, she began to feel a familiar sense of inadequacy. She had never felt this way around Patsy before. With the other girls in their class, yes, but not with Patsy. The differences of class and upbringing were normally disregarded between them entirely. Right now, though, Delia was clearly the odd one out, despite the feeble attempts made to include her in their chatter. The outing she had been looking forward to all day could now not end soon enough for Delia.


	17. Feeling Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are a bit tense between Patsy and Delia. More than just the weather is making things feel cold.

Uncomfortable did not begin to describe the feelings Delia was experiencing at this moment. After the drawn-out chatter over coffee finally came to an end, the two women exited the shop and turned to head back towards the nurses’ home. Unfortunately, so did Jack Barlow. Ever the sophisticated gentleman, he now walked gallantly between them, seemingly unaware of the tension he was causing; at least from Delia’s point of view. 

Jack tried in vain to include Delia in the idle conversation as they walked the quiet streets in the fading light. She was about as interested in talking with him as she was in the colour of the bottom of his shoe right at this moment. She answered as politely as she could manage, but offered no real encouragement for more conversation. As she tried to keep herself looking unavailable, Delia took great interest in her passing surroundings. The fact that the sunset was about as dull and moody-looking as she felt right now did not go unnoticed. 

_How very fitting,_ she thought with a sigh. 

Mercifully, the nurses’ home was now just around the corner, where Delia could excuse herself from the awkwardness and retreat to her room. If she had have been in the mood, a hot bath might have helped lift her spirits, but right now all Delia wanted was the solitude of her room. The thought of the evening meal didn’t even appeal to the normally always famished Welshwoman. 

Jack had rather haughtily taken it upon himself to purchase the women each something sweet. Delia had been inclined to say something about it, but when she glanced at Patsy, she was met with an apologetic look that implored her to be gracious about it. Begrudgingly, Delia had managed to swallow three mouthfuls before declaring herself, ‘Too full for another bite.’ Jack had seemed pleased, even if Delia’s insides certainly were not. Even now, it sat heavily in her stomach. The ever-swirling emotions of annoyance and disappointment were not helping with the discomfort. 

As the trio approached the steps to the nurses’ home, they came to a somewhat awkward halt. If Delia had it her way she would have just trotted up the steps and off to her room without so much as a backward glance, however her mother raised her to be polite, if not the lady she had hoped her daughter to become. Eager to get it over and done with as efficiently as possible, she turned to Jack and offered a tight smile.

“Well, Mr Barlow—”

“Jack.” He interrupted her, “Please, call me Jack.”

“Alright then, Jack… It has been a pleasure to meet you,” She glanced quickly at Patsy and then back to Jack. “And thank you for the pie,” She added lamely.

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Busby…” He caught her gaze for a moment, as if waiting for her to grant him permission to used her given name. It was not offered. Delia did not look away but also did not say another word, just gave another smile and a nod. 

“Right, well,” He turned to Patsy, “I must say, it was a surprise and a delight to run into you here, Patsy.” His eyes crinkled in a smile at the corner at his own play on words.

“A surprise, indeed,” Patsy replied, now fidgeting on her toes a little. The late October chill was even more bitter now the sun had made it’s decent beyond the skyline.

Delia noticed the agitated movement and wondered if perhaps Patsy was waiting for her to go, if maybe she wanted some time alone with Jack. She stood awkwardly to the side, not sure if she should excuse herself or stay put. She did not want to seem like a third wheel, but also didn’t particularly like the idea of leaving the two alone together. The air about the trio had now become awkward. Jack shuffled his feet uneasily.

“I best be getting in,” Delia finally broke the silence, “I have a few things I’d like to do before supper. Thanks, again, Mr Ba- err, Jack.”

With that, she chanced a quick glance in Patsy’s direction before turning and making a beeline for the old wooden door. She didn’t want to chance hearing what the pair would talk about following her departure. Tucking her head down low to deter any unwanted conversation from the other girls, she made her way to her room as quickly as she could without raising suspicion. The very last thing she needed was one of the class gossips to stick her nose in. Closing the door behind her, she leant against it and let out a relieved sigh. Solitude at last.

***

Patsy’s eyes didn’t leave the retreating figure of the Welshwoman until she had disappeared through the door and out of sight. She felt a familiar pull inside of her to follow Delia, to check on her. She had seemed so out of sorts throughout the afternoon and Patsy was worried she had once again managed to upset her. Everything had seemed to be going so well before the unexpected interruption of Jack. It had taken her so off-guard, she hadn’t thought about how it might have come across to Delia.

She turned to look up at Jack. It appeared he had also been watching Delia leave, as he looked away from the doorway and back at Patsy. 

“It appears I’ve made quite the impression on your friend,” He said a little ruefully. “I do hope I haven’t caused any trouble.”

“It has been a rather unusual day. Delia will be tired,” Patsy defended her. Immediately, she felt bad for her brusque reply and added, “We have our first ward placement at the London starting this coming week and I think it’s got us all a bit on edge.”

“I see,” He slipped his hands into his pocket and scuffed his foot on the warn path. His broad shoulders hunched ever so slightly against the sharpness of the evening breeze. “I suppose she wouldn’t have the time nor inclination to accompany me for a walk one evening, then.”

Patsy tried not to show her shock at his admission of interest in Delia. She hadn’t even considered that he might find her attractive, even though she was most definitely so. Worse yet, she hadn’t let it cross her mind that Delia might feel the same way towards Jack. The thought made her stomach plummet through to her toes. How could she be so foolish?

“I cannot speak for Delia,” She answered coolly. “It’s not my place to speculate so I suppose you’ll have to ask her yourself.” She felt her voice crack ever so slightly at the end, but mercifully, Jack didn’t seem to notice. The ache in her chest was becoming too much and her flight reflex was making her fingers twitch anxiously.

“I have to go, too, Jack,” She didn’t pause to say goodnight, she couldn’t. She hurried towards the steps without so much as a look in his direction. Jack stood, speechless, watching for the second time as his company disappeared through that old wooden door.

***

 _Tap tap tap._ Patsy rapped lightly on the door. No answer. She rested her forehead lightly against the door and took a deep breath.

“Delia?” 

“Come on in, Pats,” Delia’s voice sounded uncharacteristically flat.

Taking another steadying breath, she exhaled heavily, willing her swirling insides to calm themselves. She let herself into the room and forced her voice to sound as normal as possible.

“Hello, old thing,” One corner of her mouth turned up in her classic Patsy smile. The normally familiar room felt awkward, and she hesitated a moment before making her way over to the bed where Delia sat. She perched herself on the foot end, facing the smaller woman.

“You know you don’t really have to knock, Patsy.” Delia stated. “You’re always welcome to come in.”

 _Sometimes I’m not so sure,_ Patsy thought to herself. Instead of voicing her thought, she tried a lighter approach, “Well one never can be certain if the other is decent. What if you happened to be in your unmentionables?” A heat rose into her cheeks at the thought and she tried desperately not to let the colour show.

“I suppose,” Delia mused. “But still, that’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

Patsy’s heart quickened a little at the memory of the morning after they had first met. Delia’s position then had been more than a little compromising and Patsy had seen more than she should have. Her thoughts then shifted to helping Delia change her pyjamas when she had had that dreadful nightmare. Delia was right, she _had_ seen it before. Hey eyes had seen a loveliness she could never forget, and she wasn’t sure her pounding heart could take another glimpse of that soft, creamy skin…

“Pats?” 

Patsy’s head snapped up. “Hmm?” Had she been daydreaming? 

“Are you quite all right?” Delia furrowed her brow, “You seem a little vague this evening.”

“Just a little done in, I suppose. All the excitement of the day, you know,” Patsy trailed off.

“Ah, yes. That Mr Barlow sure was a surprise alright.” Delia’s tone was indecipherable, but definitely insinuated that there was something more to what she said. Patsy’s heart sunk again as she considered that perhaps Delia had seen more in Jack than first thought. 

“Quite.” Patsy answered quietly. “Although it was the ward placement that I was referring to.”

“Oh.” 

Silence fell between them again. It seemed that Delia was not in the mood for talking. Patsy considered excusing herself, but just as she was about to do so, Delia spoke again.

“Why have you never mentioned Jack before?” 

The words were so timid and quiet that Patsy wasn’t sure she had heard them at all. She looked up at the face before her. Round, blue eyes looked a mixture of melancholy and curiosity, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

“I don’t really know,” she broke the eye contact and stared at her hands folded in her lap. “I suppose it didn’t cross my mind as important.” Her excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Obviously he was someone important to you at some point,” Delia’s voice was more confident this time, almost accusing.

Patsy bristled. “If you think that there was something between myself and Jack Barlow other than friendship, you are mistaken.” Her words were spoken sharply, her RP accent strong. 

Delia sat up from where she was leaning against the headboard. She shuffled closer and put a hand on Patsy’s arm. Patsy felt every fibre of her body willing her to withdraw her arm, but she did not. The last thing she needed was to make this any worse. A wisp of blonde hair that had worked itself loose in the breeze on the walk home slid down from its place and came to rest on Patsy’s cheek. Before she could do so herself, a small hand reached up and tucked it behind her ear. Patsy flinched ever so slightly. Delia’s fingers felt like electricity on her face. 

“I’m sorry, Pats, I shouldn’t have pried. It’s just that he seemed to know so much about you that I was surprised you hadn’t mentioned him before.” The welsh voice was soft again.

“Jack did know more about me than anyone else at the time. I suppose he still knows more than most now,” Patsy busied herself worrying a nail cuticle. She craved a cigarette but Delia did not like them being smoked in her room. She looked back up at Delia and saw a flash of hurt in her sweet face.

“Oh, Deels, there’s no need to worry, you most certainly have not been outranked.” She offered a cheeky smile to try and lighten the mood. “Besides, Jack doesn’t have quite the same… qualities… as you.”

Delia raised an eyebrow at her. “Just as well, then.” She jutted out her chin in triumph and nudged Patsy playfully with her shoulder. “You better not be keeping secrets from me, Patience Mount.”

Patsy gave her a sly look, narrowing her eyes. “There are always some things which are safer left unsaid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems I've finally got a better rhythm for updates again. YAY!


	18. My Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reflects on his memories of the unforgettable Patience Mount

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for any mistakes, etc. I have been getting slack.

An ink-marked hand reached out to rub an intangible ribbon between its fingers. The late October sun peeked out from between heavy clouds and through the window above the desk, illuminating the papers spread out over it in disarray. The columns of light were a mix of bright and weak that could only signal another bitter Autumn day. All light, no warmth.

 _Funny,_ Jack mused to himself, _I know a few people just like that._

He leaned back, his chair creaking as he stretched the kinks out his long legs before lifting one ankle up onto the opposite knee. Absentmindedly picking up the coffee cup on the desk, he held it for a moment, distracted by his shoe. The burgundy sole of the wingtips was starting to wear thin and the stitching on the edges fraying. A frown wrinkled his brow at the admission, but it did seem his overbearing mother had been right. He should have had the soles replaced with something more durable for all the walking his job entailed.

Lifting the cup to his lips, Jack took in a mouthful of the now lukewarm coffee and grimaced. Surely he hadn’t been sitting there that long? Or maybe he had. The encounter with Patsy and her attractive Welsh friend yesterday had definitely thrown him. He sighed, placing the cup back on the mess of papers. If he was honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t have given Delia much of a second look if he hadn’t known better. Not to say that she wasn’t lovely; her glistening eyes and lilting voice were enchanting, really, it’s just that she wasn’t Patsy. 

He had been just shy of fifteen when he had first laid eyes on the pretty blonde. The boys had whispered their way to the all-girls school, excited by the prospect of winning the affections of an unsuspecting young lady. Jack had hung back, never having been one to exude confidence. The thought of having to dance with anyone filled him with dread. Unless by some miracle he managed to be an odd one out and excused from participation, he would just have to do his best. Perhaps she would like a joke, even. Jack always turned to jokes when he was anxious.

Upon arrival at the school, they had been ushered into a relatively large room with polished floors which had seemingly been built purely for the purpose of dance. They boys had lined up, and the formidable Miss Archer was walking along to asses her new recruits. As she went, she called out the names of the girls with whom each boy should be paired with. None made a move towards them; the boys were expected to take note of who they were paired with so that they could ask them to dance once the music began. Miss Archer had stopped in front of Jack and looked up at his already towering form. She smirked, looking unnervingly pleased, before calling out a name. 

“Patience Mount.” 

He looked over the older woman’s head to see which of the girls lined on the opposite wall had been named. His eyes met hers as she did the same, and Jack had felt a rush of warmth flood his cheeks. She only glanced at him for a moment before looking away again, but Jack could not avert his gaze. It was obvious why Miss Archer had been pleased. Patience Mount was tall, at least five inches taller than the next tallest in the class, the lanky girl standing beside Patience with the shining black hair. Jack barely paid the other girl any mind, aside from noticing them utter a handful of words between themselves. He was transfixed by his new dance partner. Soft, luminescent blonde curls peeked out from their confines and framed a canvas of creamy white skin, broken only by two piercing blue eyes and a set of pink, full lips. 

Jack swallowed hard as he heard Miss Archer reach the end of the line and head towards the record player at the end of the room. He knew he would have to make his way over to her soon, but right now all he could think about was the fact that no one could make that ghastly school uniform look any more fetching than did Patience Mount. He closed his eyes for just a moment as he let out a groan. How was he ever going to get the courage up to talk to her?

_Crackle, pop, pop, crackle_

The needle found the first note and the music introduction warbled its way through the high-ceilinged room. Some boys stepped forward confidently, others hanging back to muster one more ounce of courage before setting off. At least they knew their assigned partners were obliged to accept them. No real threat of rejection in this ballroom.

Jack was one of the last to move forward. His long legs made short work of the distance, however, and before he felt entirely prepared, he had arrived in front of her and was now grasping for the words. He cleared his throat and caught her eye, smiling a wobbly, nervous smile. It was not reciprocated.

“Err… Patience, is it?” He asked nervously.

She looked at him a little more, as if sizing him up before she answered. 

“People call me Patsy,” Was all she said.

“Patsy,” He tried the name out, “I like that. I’m Jackson Barlow, but you can call me Jack.” His eyes dipped to stare at the floor near his feet. The music played on, but Jack could not manage to summon another word from his tight throat.

Pasty flicked a quick look in the direction of the girl with the black hair, but she had already been escorted to the floor by her assigned partner, as had everyone else. An agitated sigh pushed its way through her lips and she shifted her weight slightly more to one foot, waiting for his eyes to come back up. They did not.

“Well I don’t suppose we will get much practice in by examining the floor for cracks,” She remarked. “Shall we get to it?”

Jack felt the heat creeping up his neck once again. It was supposed to be his job to ask the lady to dance, and he had let his nerves get the best of him. He looked up now and offered a clammy hand.

“I… Umm… Yes. M-might I have this dance?” He stammered embarrassingly.

A cool, soft hand landed lightly in his and he led her to an open space not far from where they had stood. There was a rather awkward shuffle as the two young bodies adjusted into position and began their first few uncertain steps to the music. Jack could tell immediately that his partner was no stranger to a waltz. She practically dripped a confidence as she placed her feet perfectly to every beat. 

Jack had been less so. He stumbled and stepped on her toes at least a dozen times before the end of the first song screeched its final note. Patsy had become increasingly sour throughout the whole ordeal, and Jack couldn’t blame her. His big feet had probably caused some significant discomfort by now. He released her from his arms as the music ended, relieved to have that ordeal over with. That was not to be the case, however, and she raised an eyebrow at him as the sound of a violin signalled the opening of another waltz. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought that was the end of it,” He apologised quietly.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” She answered back, “But I believe they have four of these for us to get throu—Ah!” Her final word was cut off by another blow from Jacks misplaced foot.

“I do apologise, Patsy,” He blushed again, looking away from her. “I’m afraid your poor feet might not make it through another two after this.”

“Nonsense,” Her tone raised a little in encouragement, or annoyance, Jack could not tell which.

He offered her a small, lopsided smile. “I guess it’s a good thing for me that they didn’t name you _Im_ -Patience.” 

She smirked a little at his weak attempt at a joke, easing his tension ever so slightly. 

“I can quickly become impatient if you don’t hurry up a bit.” She said. It would have sounded like scolding if it weren’t for the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. “You’ve got to keep up with the music but at the same time could you please go easy on my shoes?”

***

Jack chuckled at the memory and stood from his desk. He began to dress in his warm layers as the reminiscence continued to consume his mind.

Oh, how he had been smitten with that girl. Every dance lesson afterwards they had been continuously paired, as Jack was the only boy tall enough to dance with her properly. He had looked forward to each encounter and had made it his mission to woo her. He told joke after joke, revelling in the sound of her laughter, and falling head over heels for the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. His fooling around often resulted in a reprimand from Miss Archer, but he did not stop. Pasty, however, did not appreciate the scolding and would tersely insist that they get on with it. Jack would cheekily call her ‘ImPatience’ again, and the two would continue on. Looking back on it, he realised that she had, in fact, never encouraged or implied anything but friendship with him. If he hadn’t have been so blinded by hope, it could have saved him the rejection.

It was at the first co-ed social event that he had had his heart broken for the first time. He had dressed in his best that night, taking special care to ensure his unruly hair was tamed and his tie was tied perfectly. However good Jack thought he looked, Patsy had looked a million times better. She had worn a red plaid skirt and a cream blouse that night, her blonde locks left unrestrained to flow effortlessly around her shoulders. Her longs legs, free from the confines of their usual school-issued thick stockings, made him gulp and loosen his tie. One smile from Patsy put him at ease, though, and they managed to get through two songs without a single missed step or crushed toe.

As the music ended and the next began, he loosened his grip and gestured to a somewhat secluded corner of the room. Her eyelids twitched and her brow furrowed slightly in perplexity, but she exited the crowd of dancers with him without question. On his way past, Jack picked up some refreshments and guided her to the furthest seating area which was otherwise unoccupied. 

“I thought you could use a drink and a rest,” He said, handing her one of the glasses as she sat.

“I was quite all right,” She answered him, brow still furrowed in suspicion, “But thank you for the thought.”

“Well, actually,” He began, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “I thought we could talk.”

She looked at him quizzically, that distinctive eyebrow-lift silently prompting him to continue.

“You see… Well… I-I’ve been meaning to ask you… Patsy,” There was that annoying stammer again. He took a breath and spilled the words out in a gush. “I wanted to ask if maybe you’d let me call you my girl… You know, like we could be an item? I know some of the other boys have asked the--”

“Jack.” Patsy interrupted him. 

The tone in which she uttered his name made his heart plummet to his feet. She needn’t say any more for him to know she was rejecting him. He looked up from his untouched drink in his hand and tried to keep the look of embarrassment and disappointment from his face.

“Jack, you are wonderful and a very dear friend,” She continued, “But I’m sorry, I can’t be your girl.”

“Oh…” He looked back down at his glass again. “Someone’s asked you already then?”

“No, no one has asked me, and I would have told them no even if they had.” She looked at his dejected face. She did value his friendship and it pained her to hurt him. “It’s just, well, I guess you’re not my type.” The excuse seemed lame and unfeeling even to her.

“Oh…” He said again. He met her eyes once more, questioning written on his face. “Well, what is your type?”

Patsy glanced quickly at the group of young people in the middle of the room. Her eyes found Clare and as she did so, the dark-haired girl looked up and smiled at her. She turned back to Jack and sighed. 

“It doesn’t matter what my type is.” Was all she said.

***

Jack plunged his hands into the pockets of his coat as he walked down the hall and away from his room. They never did speak about the admission directly, but Jack was not silly. He knew he could never be what Pasty wanted. No man ever could. In fact, he took a small comfort in knowing that her lack of romantic feelings for him had nothing to do with himself as a person. 

Throughout the end of that school year and the next, Jack appointed himself the role of protector to Pasty, even though she didn’t really need protecting. Every social event possible, he would escort her on his arm, thwarting off the eyes, hands, and ill-intentions of any would- be callers who looked her way. If he couldn’t have her in a romantic sense, he would be her knight in shining armour in every other way. That was, until his father was transferred to New York and Jack was abruptly uprooted. The move was so sudden that he had no choice but to tell Patsy in a letter. They had only corresponded a handful of times before the letters petered out. To run into her yesterday was a coincidence he could never had expected.

Nonetheless, that was the past, and now Jack needed to look to the future. Turning his face towards the crisp autumn wind, he signalled the bus and boarded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a twist here, having a chapter from Jack's POV.
> 
> Echo7, you got your shoe soles in this one!


	19. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia struggles with her emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this chapter ended up too long, so it has been split in two.

Delia cursed under her breath in Welsh and instinctively stuck her finger in her mouth in a futile attempt to ease the pain. This ghastly nurse’s uniform was destined to be the end of her fingers as she knew them. With a scowl and a throbbing left index, she bent over her task once more and soldiered on until the uniform was crisply pressed and hanging neatly on the hanger. Another job completed, ready for the week ahead. 

She blew a puff of air through her cheeks and placed her hands on her hips as her mind wandered over the ward tour from the day before. Palliative care was not going to be an easy ward to start her practical training with, but Delia was excited to begin regardless. No matter how difficult the assignment appeared or how incredibly frustrating she found her fellow classmates allocated to that ward, nothing could take away the sense of accomplishment that Delia felt at finally doing the nursing she felt called to do. This was what she wanted, what she had left Wales for, and she would do whatever it took to succeed.

“If you’ve got nothing better to do than stare at your uniform, you could always press mine.”

Delia jumped and spun around at the familiar voice. She cringed. Kathy Marks.

“Kathy. You startled me,” She said before gesturing to the iron. “Thank you for the offer but I’ve had my fill of it.”

Kathy smirked at her as she sauntered further into the room. “You were awfully deep in thought. What, or maybe _who_ , was on your mind?”

That smug smirk made Delia bristle and she itched to wipe it off of the slightly older woman’s face. She felt her fingers dig into her forearm behind her back as she tried to keep herself from taking the bait.

“I was just thinking of the patients we met on the ward tour today,” Delia replied evenly. It was going to be a long six weeks, it seemed.

“Really, Delia, do you ever think of anything besides training?” Kathy huffed in exasperation as she examined her nails, evidently disinterested in the topic of placement.

“Well we are here to train, Kathy. Besides, the placement will be excellent,” Delia felt her anticipation mount again as she spoke. “Aren’t you excited to put on your uniform and work on a real ward for the first time?”

“This atrocious thing?” Kathy held up the rumpled uniform that had been hanging over her arm. “If I could avoid ever being seen in this at all, I would. I just hope Dereck doesn’t see me in it.”

Delia looked at her sceptically. “You mean Dereck Adams?”

“Of course I mean Dereck Adams!” Kathy flashed her a look of irritation. “Who else would I be talking about?”

“Kathy… Dereck is a _junior doctor_. How, exactly, do you expect to work at the same hospital without him seeing you?” Delia tried to keep a straight face, but the responding glare from Kathy was nearly her undoing. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch.

A muscle in Kathy’s jaw tensed and her nostrils flared ever so slightly as she fought to remain aloof. Clearly, she had not intended to be the one under scrutiny in this conversation. As she regained her composure, Kathy shifted her weight to one foot and tossed her mousy-brown braid over her shoulder.

“I’ll just have to be careful. It will only be for a few weeks, anyway. We’re getting pretty serious, Dereck and I,” She said, that smug smirk back on her face. “I daresay we’ll be engaged before you and your blonde friend even find dates to the Christmas party.”

Delia felt the heat rise inside her and clenched her fists behind her back. Her mind went blank while looking for a retort, and before she would say a word, Kathy delivered one final jab of spite.

“Unless you just plan on going together again.” 

A cold wave of dread washed over Delia as Kathy spun on her heel with a haughty laugh and strode back out of the room. The final statement was loaded, and Delia knew it. She knew what Kathy could well have been implying, and the panic in her chest was proof enough that it was true; at least in her case. With shaky hands, she tidied away the ironing things and picked up her carefully pressed uniform.

As she hurried back through the corridor towards her room, Delia hoped with all her might that she wouldn’t encounter anyone else. She was sure her face was pale and she was feeling a little ill from her run-in with Kathy. What was she going to do? She couldn’t have anyone suspecting the truth, especially someone who would not feel one ounce of regret about telling Matron. Delia could lose her position here, and there was no doubt Kathy would gladly take down Patsy at the same time. Patsy—

Delia was approaching her door when the one next to it opened suddenly, revealing an especially fetching-looking Patience Mount. Delia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to will away the swirling in her stomach. Stress and butterflies mingled together in a nauseating dance within her. A rush of cool wind blew through the partially open window of the blonde’s room and out the open door, sending a breath of Patsy’s intoxicating scent swirling around the small brunette. That elegantly tangy perfume, laced with the lingering smell of bleach and soap that could only be Patsy, sent Delia’s heart to her throat, and she sent herself stumbling through her door without looking up.

“Deels?” Patsy’s voice, pitchy with concern, stopped her in her tracks as she hurried into her room.

Delia did not answer. She turned slowly, but no words were going to make it past the tightness of her throat.

“Delia, whatever is the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Patsy moved forward, her brow creased as she looked Delia up and down.

Delia instinctively stepped back. For the first time ever, she felt the need to be away from Patsy. Right now, she wanted to put distance between, but she could also feel the emotional tether pulling at her, almost like the gravity that held the moon in orbit. She turned to the wardrobe to hang her uniform and closed her eyes again for a moment, unable to formulate an answer to Patsy’s concern. What could she say? The matter was that she was in love with a beautiful blonde who she had to now push away? That the only ghost in her life was that of a love she could never act upon? 

Of course she couldn’t say such things. Delia sighed and straightened her slumped shoulders. She tried out a smile to see if she could maintain one before turning back to face Patsy. The sight of her sent a fresh blade of pain stabbing through her insides. Patsy was just as lovely when she was worried as she was any other time. Crystal blue eyes were shadowed with concern, her brow creased, and her plump red lips parted slightly as she waited for Delia’s response. Slender hands fidgeted in front of her waist, a sure sign that she was stressed and in need of a cigarette.

“I’m fine, Pats.” Delia tried to act nonchalant, willing the colour to return to her face. She knew Patsy would see right through it, regardless, and the look she received was proof of that.

“Delia, you and I both know I was never going to believe that.” Patsy quirked one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Delia, signalling that she was in no mood for deflection.

Delia sucked in a breath and thought on her feet. She couldn’t lie to Patsy, but she couldn’t tell her the real reason for her upset either. 

“It’s nothing, really. I just had another run-in with Kathy while I was ironing my uniform and she got the better of me.” Delia dared to look Patsy in the eye at the end of her explanation. It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the whole story.

“Well whatever she said must have been upsetting because I have never seen you look quite so distressed from an---” Patsy’s sentence was cut short by a hasty knock on Delia’s door.

Delia and Patsy exchanged curious glances before Delia moved towards the doorway. She opened it slowly, as if scared of who might be on the other side. With a wave of relief, she recognised one of the younger girls from the class. She was renowned for being overly exuberant and now stood practically vibrating with excitement.

“Ivy,” Delia smiled at her a little suspiciously, “What brings you down this way?”

“Oh, Delia!” Ivy’s normally high-pitched voice seemed impossibly higher. “There’s someone here to see you!”

Delia’s brow furrowed in confusion and she looked over her shoulder at Patsy, who offered her a one-shoulder shrug in answer. She turned back to the effervescent young girl.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone. Did they say who they were? Surely Mam and Dad haven’t come—”

“Oh, it’s not your parents,” Ivy’s eyes were wide as saucers now, sparkling as though she might swoon. “Delia, why didn’t you tell anyone you had yourself a fellow? And such a gentleman at that.” 

Delia’s frown deepened as she struggled to understand how she could have a gentleman caller waiting for her, when she had never had anyone call on her in her life. She looked at Ivy once more, wondering just how much coffee she might have consumed already today.

“Ivy, I think you must be mistaken, I don’t have any fellow.” Delia said flatly. She was not in the mood for games after her run-in with Kathy.

“Well,” Ivy giggled, “He specifically asked for you, but if you don’t want him, I’m sure one of us other girls would be happy to keep him company.”

“But I—”

“It must be Jack, Delia.” Patsy, who had been silently watching the exchange unfold, interjected.

Delia spun on her heel, her pony-tail whipping her in the face as she did so, and looked at Patsy with wide eyes.

“Jack!?” She exclaimed incredulously. She then spun back to Ivy, “Did he say his name was Jack Barlow, by any chance?”

At the impish grin and nod from the girl, Delia allowed herself a small groan.

“Tell him I’ll be down in a few moments.” She said. She closed the door after Ivy made her frenzied departure before turning to face the tall blonde standing stock-still in the middle of the room.

“Why is Jack here?” The words came out in almost a hiss, and made a futile attempt to calm herself before continuing. “More to the point, what does he want with me? It sounds like you were aware he was coming? Why didn’t you tell me?” The questions were definitely more like accusations.

Patsy did not answer immediately. She looked taken aback at the fiery, flashing eyes of her smaller friend, but just as quickly as the shock appeared, it was overtaken with the cool, aloof demeanour with which Patsy treated everyone in the face of conflict.

“After you went inside last night, Jack asked me if you would want to go for a walk with him. I simply told him that I couldn’t speak for you and he would have to ask you himself.” Her voice was cool and even, which irked Delia even more.

A torrent of possible responses flooded Delia’s mind, and she fought to make sense of them. The most painful thought of all was that Patsy hadn’t tried to deter him. She had started to think maybe Patsy had felt the same way, that she was trying to subtly tell her so, when Jack had shown up and she had resigned herself to the fact that he and Patsy would be an item. After their little talk last night, though, she had allowed the hope to grow anew. Now Jack was here on Patsy’s advice and it had thrown her all over again. Perhaps Patsy wanted Delia to settle down with some man, and she had been reading the signals all wrong. Such a rollercoaster of emotion was making Delia exhausted.

She looked down at her shoes, her tetchy thoughts making her frown. _Well, I’m not going to encourage any unwanted attention from the likes of Jack Barlow… Or any man. The last thing I need now is rumours running rampant about me having a gentleman caller…_

Just then, another thought sprung to mind. Perhaps Jack was the answer. Yes, a walk with a strapping young man might be just the ticket to throw Kathy, and anyone else who might suspect, off the scent. It was uncharacteristic of Delia to use another person, but in this case, a walk seemed such a harmless price for the overall gain. She would not lead Jack on, though. As inconvenient as he had become, he seemed like a good man.

Patsy cleared her throat quietly, snapping Delia out of her thoughts. Her eyes followed the floor and up the figure of the woman before her, finally coming to rest on those endless blue eyes she had come to love. She read a flicker of something there. Was it concern? Sadness? It had disappeared in a flash, back behind that impenetrable façade.

Patsy sucked in a small breath and broke the eye-contact by picking up a cardigan that had been lying on the bed and neatly folding it.

“So, what are you going to do?” She asked lightly. Delia was completely unaware of the tension in Patsy’s body. It ached at the thought of her with Jack.

Delia smiled at Patsy and took the cardigan from her fidgeting hands.

“I suppose I’m going for a walk.”


	20. Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Delia go walking.. and talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in updates! Enjoy

Ominous grey clouds drifted thick and low overhead, threatening to shed their contents on those who risked passing underneath. It appeared that the majority of the population had wisely decided to remain indoors, safely out of reach of the inevitable cold shower looming overhead and the icy breeze that whispered through the gaps between buildings.

Delia marvelled at her monochromatic surroundings. The stark contrast of this city compared to her home in Wales was nearly as dramatic as that of the bright red telephone boxes that were standing bold and proud against their greyscale backdrop. The occasional amber-cloaked tree that was yet to cast its foliage to the wind and a few hurried bundles of woollen coats and scarves scurrying to complete their errands were the only other signs of life in the streets. It should have been a miserable sort of a day for walking, and yet Delia revelled in the quiet of it, drinking in the unconventional beauty around her. 

An image of Patsy floated into her mind, and she couldn’t help but wish that this walk could have been shared with her. Sighing, she looked down at her faithful dark-brown oxford shoes. Leaves crunched satisfyingly beneath them as the pair walked under a young sycamore tree.

Jack was surprisingly comfortable to walk with, and that in itself bothered Delia a little. They had been walking along now for several minutes in a companionable silence. It should have felt awkward, but it did not. When she had met him yesterday, it had been so unexpected and she had instantly felt jealous of his relationship with Patsy, though she wouldn’t have admitted it. Today he had taken her by surprised yet again and she had been in a less than chatty mood when they had left the nurses’ home amid a flurry of nosey whispers and looks. However, it was becoming increasingly clear to Delia how this man had managed to befriend Patsy. Jack did not pry, he didn’t fill the space with senseless chatter. He had a mischievous sparkle in his eye and a relaxed air that made him both likeable and frustratingly comfortable to be around. Frustrating for Delia, that is.

She wanted to dislike him. Wanted to have some sort of valid reason to justify why she wouldn’t see him again after they returned home from this walk. This was not to be the case, however, and Delia had resigned herself to the fact that she would have to be the bad-guy and reject a rather wonderful man for no reason. Well, there was a reason, of course, but not one she could freely share. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and tucked down her chin, her shoulders hunching up and pressing the scarf further up around her neck and ears. The movement was more a search for comfort than warding off the cold. It wasn’t going to be a nice feeling, that was for sure.

As the duo rounded a corner, a small public garden of sorts came into view, and Jack took one hand from the safety of its warm cave to gesture towards it.

“How about we see if there’s a nice place to sit just up here?” He suggested, his expression changing to concern as he took in the sight of her evidently braced against the cold. “The buildings around it should provide a sort of block for this ghastly breeze. I feel like it’s seeping in though any possible gap in my clothing.”

“I’m really not that cold,” Delia answered back, straightening her posture to look up at him. “I suppose I was just lost in thought more than anything.”

“In that case, we can keep walking if you like,” He offered.

Delia smiled at him reassuringly. “If you don’t mind, I’m quite happy to continue.”

“Excellent. Walking does keep the blood flowing, so they say. Though, you’re the nurse in training, so I’d best not make a fool of myself with such facts.” He gave her a lopsided grin, one dimple appearing on his left cheek that made him look instantly boyish.

Delia chuckled. “So, you don’t fancy delving into a discussion about the wonders of the human body with an up and coming nurse, then?”

“I think I’d best stick to topics I know more about,” He looked up at slowly passing scenery, looking as though he was refraining from saying something else. Delia did not push to find out what.

Another few moments passed before Jack slowed down his pace slightly, causing Delia to look up at him again.

“Look, Delia, I hope you don’t think it was too forward of me to drop by unannounced today,” He said, casting down his gaze in a moment of uncertainty. “I didn’t get a chance to ask last night and didn’t know when I might have another opportunity.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Delia reassured him, “It did take me by surprise, but really it’s no bother. I would have expected you to have come looking for Patsy, not me.”

“Ah, Patsy,” Jack gazed out into the distance as he spoke her name. “Patsy is indeed very special to me. However, we aren’t romantically compatible, Patsy and I.”

Delia couldn’t help it, a little, “Oh?” escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Jack turned his face to her again and looked her in the eye as he spoke, a sincerity and something unidentifiable in his gaze. 

“I’m not her type,” he said simply.

“Oh.” Delia repeated, the inflection much less inquiring.

_’Not her type’. I wonder if that means what I hope it does?_ Delia thought to herself.

She didn’t allow her thoughts to get too far ahead of her. The last thing she needed now was a hope-inspiring day dream about herself and Patsy. There were any number of reasons why Jack might not have been her type. Best not to get ahead of herself again. 

Just then, a woman hurried by them, her black pram bouncing along with her haste. The child inside it was sending out his loud protests, possibly at the cold, but most likely at the bumpy ride. The cries quickly faded away as the mother hurried along downwind, trying to get to where she was going before the heavens opened upon them. Delia craned her neck to look at the sky directly above them, her eyes squinting against the glare of the heavy clouds. If it weren’t for the umbrella hooked in the crook of Jack’s right arm, she would have suggested that they turn back. 

Jack followed her gaze and chuckled to himself. At Delia’s questioning look, he said, “I hope you’re not made of sugar, because there’s a chance you might melt if these clouds have their way.”

Delia smiled along with him, the old saying reminding her instantly of her father. He had always stood up for her when she was playing out in the weather. Mam would drag her inside at the slightest drizzle of rain, muttering about how she would catch her death of cold if left to her own devices. Her father would chuckle and wrap her mam in his arms. With his chin resting on her head, he would say to her, _‘the child may be sweet, dear, but she’s not made of sugar. She won’t melt.’_

The memory made her grin, a dimple appearing in each cheek as she did so. Jack, who had momentarily been scrutinising the run-down looking building of the law firm across the street, had looked back down at her just in time to notice.

“Penny for them,” He said, snapping her from her memory.

“Oh,” She said, blinking. “I was just thinking about my parents. My father used to say that… About the sugar.”

“I think it’s a dad sort of a thing to say. Mine used to say it to my sister,” he said. He paused for a moment before adding, “I’d love to hear about your life back in Wales. That is, if you would care to tell me about it.”

Another smile broke out on Delia’s face. She was relieved to have something specific to talk about. As the pair continued their saunter thought the mostly-abandoned streets, Delia recounted several delightful anecdotes from her upbringing in Pembrokeshire. Her musical welsh lilt and Jack’s responding laughter floated freely in the wind as they walked. When at last she had made it to the topic of moving to London to study, Jack used it as the segue he needed to ask the questions that had been on his mind.

“So, how did you and Patsy meet, then? I mean, In training obviously, but…” His question was not as eloquent as he would have liked.

The corners of Delia’s mouth pulled up at the mention of Patsy. “We met when I first arrived, but Patsy had been here several days already. It was all terribly in character of me, actually. I had missed the first bus and was running late, and in my hurry and struggle with luggage, I ran into Patsy in the hallway of the nurses’ home.”

“Ah, she saw you struggling and offered to help, then? How gracious of her.” He said.

“I’m afraid there was very little grace involved. I meant I literally _ran into her_.” Delia smirked again. “Apparently neither of us were looking where we were going because we both ended up on the floor surrounded by my personal items.”

Jack threw back his head and laughed heartily. Delia hadn’t expected him to find it quite that funny, but the laughter was infectious and she, too, soon found herself wiping the mirth from her eyes.

“Patience Mount, running headlong into someone and ending up sprawled out on the floor is something I never thought I’d see or hear about,” Jack chuckled some more at the mental image before continuing. “How on earth did you end up friends after an embarrassing meeting like that? I would have thought Patsy would want to forget that ever happened.”

Delia pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“You know, it never was awkward between Patsy and myself. She was always different with the other girls in the group but for some reason we just clicked.” She looked down at her hands now, entwining her fingers unconsciously. “I suppose we are just… compatible.”

“Compatible…” Jack echoed her. He had a feeling they were much more compatible than either knew of the other just yet, but that was not his place to say so. “I like that.”

“Me too,” Delia’s tone dropped to low and wistful.

“So, tell me more about the escapades of Patience and Delia,” Jack offered his arm to Delia as they pair stepped over a patch of slippery leaves mushed into the side walk. 

A few speckles of rain were beginning to mark the street, and Jack put up his large umbrella to shield them as they made their way back in the direction of the nurses’ home. He listened intently to the small brunette beside him tell all about the first few months of training, and everything that had happened. He was surprised to hear of their enlightening walk in Victoria Park, and was thoroughly engrossed in the story of this young girl, Rose, saving a boy from the river. As he listened, he watched Delia’s expressive face flick through excitement, worry, sadness, and joy as each event was recounted in detail.

Jack didn’t figure that Delia was aware of it, but it was quite obvious to him. The most common expression of all to cross that sweet face was that of utter adoration. Whenever she spoke of Patsy, there was a reverence to her voice and her eyes shone like polished diamonds. Sadness for himself and joy for his friends played tug-of-war within his heart. He was so very please for Patsy. He had seen the way she looked at Delia the night before but had foolishly brushed it aside as a close friendship. It was clear to him now that his long-time friend may have actually found love, and most incredible of all, someone who felt the same way in return. Now the question was whether or not they could admit that to each other.

The rain was falling more steadily now, and they had to huddle together closer than was ideal to keep dry. The worn façade of the nurses’ home came into view as they rounded the final corner. The sound of the rain was now drowning out most of the words, so conversation had subsided. The walk had come to an end, and Jack walked Delia up to the wooden door, under the cover of the small eaves. He looked down at the small brunette before him, feeling suddenly awkward.

“Jack—”

“Delia—”

Both spoke at once. A nervous chuckle bubbled out of Jack’s throat and her nodded towards Delia.

“Please, ladies first,” He said.

“It’s ok,” She said quietly, “You first.”

“Okay, well,” Jack fiddled with the soggy umbrella now dripping on the concrete step. “I wanted to thank you for the company. I had a lovely time.”

Delia smiled but looked down at her shoes again. “Thank you, so did I.”

An awkward pause hung in the air as both searched for the right words. It was Jack who spoke first.

“Look, Delia… I won’t make you worry about turning me down. I don’t have my head in the clouds. I can see that your heart belongs elsewhere, and I’m okay with that, but I do hope that we can part as friends.” His words were earnest, not accusing.

Delia looked up to meet his gaze, her eyes shining, but there was no sadness there. She was relieved at not having to reject him.

“Thank you, Jack. I would like that very much.”

Standing on her toes, Delia reached up and placed a light kiss on Jack’s cleanly shaven cheek. She gave him one last smile, bid him goodbye, and disappeared through the old wooden door. Jack stood for a moment longer, his cheek tingling where she had kissed it, and his heart aching in an all too familiar way. Raising his umbrella, he stepped out into the rain and away from the nurses’ home.

It appeared he, for one, did have a type.


	21. Natural History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls take a rare moment of spare time together between placement shifts and go in search of some history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Echo7 for your help with this chapter. It probably would have taken me another week without it!

“OUCH!” Patsy spun on her heel and scowled at the source of her pain.

“Mr Carter if you don’t stop acting like a child, I shall be forced to treat you as one.” Her tone bade no argument, and the cheeky old man folded his hands and tucked them into his lap. A mischievous grin sat proudly upon his face, and Patsy couldn’t help but be amused by his cheekiness, even if his antics were painful and frustrating. Unfortunately, this bed was in the far corner of the ward and as such, had very limited room to work.

Turning back to her task of adjusting the IV line, she pricked her ears for the faint rustle of the sheets. The corner of her mouth twitched an unbidden smirk as she heard what she was waiting for. She spun around to face her assailant, catching him in the act. His frail old arm was hovering mid-air between himself and Patsy, index and thumb at the ready for another pinch of her rear end. At the sudden movement of his intended victim, Ben Carter pulled his hand back as quickly as he could and tucked it back in the sheets. 

“You can’t pull one over on me, Mr Carter. I caught you red handed this time.” Patsy frowned at him again, incurring the same cheeky grin as before. “One more pinch from you and I might have to tell the surgeon to sew your fingers together.”

“Aww, come on, Nurse,” His crackly East-End accent croaked. “Can’t a fella have a little fun with his pretty nurse while he’s holed up in a prison like this?”

“First of all, this is a hospital. If you’d prefer a prison, I would be happy to report your repeated assault,” Her straight face made it hard to tell if she was joking or not. “And secondly, this nurse is not one bit interested in your fun. I am here to care for you before and after surgery, not to play your games.” 

Mr Carter pulled up the sheet and crossed his arms over his chest with a ‘humph’. In a child-like pout, his bottom lip jutted out with the set of his jaw, his brow creased in a frown. It appeared Patsy had won this round. 

“Breakfast will be around soon, and you'll have a fresh pair of nurses to scold you,” she sent him a challenging look with one eyebrow tweaked, then promptly turned back to her work.

With a passive expression and her chin held high, Patsy walked around the bed and over to the next one, continuing her round of observations without further incident. Fortunately for her, most of the other men in the ward seemed to possess much better manners than one Mr Ben Carter. Even still, as she carried on with the final checks of the shift, the tingling pain in her left buttock served as a constant reminder that she still had at least three more days of these shenanigans to endure before she would see the last of him.

While she worked, her thoughts drifted back to the last weekend before placement began. What a surprise it had been to run into Jack! A surprise Patsy couldn't help but wish she hadn't had to endure, if she was honest. Her Saturday afternoon had been spent seemingly trying to wear in a path in her bedroom floor. She paced back and forth so much that she probably walked further than Jack and Delia had gone. When at last she had heard Delia return to her room, it was agony to wait an appropriate amount of time before knocking on the Welshwoman’s door. She couldn't very well look as though she'd been waiting anxiously for her return. 

Patsy glanced up at the clock and watched for a moment as the second hand moved agonisingly slowly around the black and white face. How could 8 minutes feel like such an eternity? Ordinarily, she was in no rush to leave. The practical nursing suited her much better than sitting in a classroom, even if some of the patients made things difficult. The ward sister had been very pleased with her work so far, and had hinted to Patsy that perhaps this line of nursing was the right one for her. However, it was only the end of her second week on her initial placement, so she was in no rush to pick a permanent position. Again her thoughts returned to Delia. Her mind's eye flicked over the features of the smaller woman, sat on her bed with a sweet, sad smile on her face. It had jolted Patsy to see her that way. Immediately she assumed the worst, and her heart jumped into her throat. However, one look of joyous relief and a perfect smile from Delia had quelled the panic somewhat. 

Six minutes. She busied herself fixing the sheets on Mr Perkins’ bed and tidying away anything that wasn’t in the proper place. Delia had invited her to sit on the bed and immediately began recounting the walk. Even through her anxiety over the outcome of the story, Patsy had been captivated by the way Delia set the scene in every story she told. It wasn't a mindful decision, it just seemed that her brain worked in atmospheric detail. Patsy's, on the other hand, was precise and comprehensive, much like everything else about her. 

Patsy sighed another breath of relief as she recalled the moment Delia had told her that she wouldn't be seeing Jack again. She hadn't had the guts to bring it up, but of course Delia didn't need her to. Dear, thoughtful Delia. She always knew what Patsy needed of her without so much as a single word exchanged. It was one thing she loved about the smaller woman. 

Three and a half minutes. She could feel her feet start to get twitchy as she waited for the time to slowly tick by. This afternoon would be the first chance in nearly two weeks that Patsy would have to spend any time with Delia, and it could not come quick enough for the blonde. She made her way over to the nurse’s desk at the far end of the ward and dipped her head at the ward sister. After checking to see if there were any final things she was wished to have done, Patsy was granted leave for the day and tried not to seem in too much of a hurry as she floated past the arriving day staff and out of the double doors in a blur of pale purple and puffed sleeves.

***

Gentle gusts blew mildly through the streets bathed in weak mid-day sun. A rare sight of blue sky greeted the two women as they alighted from the bus at their destination. Patsy squinted up at the luminescent edges of the clouds drifting lazily above and marvelled at the luck they had had in chancing such a beautiful afternoon for an outing. She was tired, there was no denying that, but with the rotating shift-work and days off that did not align, Patsy had no choice but to keep on going after a night shift if she wanted to spend any time with Delia. After all, she had tomorrow off and Delia was working the day shift, so she was sure she could make up for the lost sleep then. 

As the pair walked the short final leg of their journey, Patsy listened with amusement at the excited ramblings of her smaller companion.

“And it took thirty-six crates to transport it in! Could you imagine having to unpack and p—” the Welshwoman’s sentence was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as the impressive building came into view.

Patsy smiled down at Delia, even more amused by her awe at the grandness of the building than she was at the ramblings about the Diplodocus replica which she had been busting to see all morning. She watched as Delia’s wide blue eyes scanned the entirety of the enormous façade before them, mouth hanging slightly open as she did so. Turning her gaze forward once more, Patsy took in the impressive architecture herself. The intricate detail on the arched entry-way alone was beautiful enough, let alone that of the two towers that stood sentry to it on either side. However, as lovely as it was, they couldn’t waste the whole day just staring at the outside. Patsy turned back to Delia, who was still gawking.

“Well, Deels, welcome to the British Museum of Natural History,” Patsy grinned at the brunette who had managed to pry her eyes away from the building long enough to look at her. “I know it’s not much to look at, but it might keep us entertained for an hour or two,” She teased with a wink.

“It’s lovely,” Delia breathed as she started to step slowly towards the entryway. Neck craned, she took in every brick as they ascended the steps leading up to the doors. 

Pasty looked from the doors, to Delia, and back again. The corner of her mouth turned up in a fish-hook smile as she anticipated the next few moments. If Delia was this impressed with the exterior of the building, Patsy was excited to see her reaction once they were actually inside. She had planned this trip for weeks now, after a revelation one night that Delia had never been. She had looked so wistful as she spoke about it as one of the places she longed to visit now she was in London. Her Mam had apparently seen it as a frightful waste of time whenever they had briefly visited the city to see her Aunty Blod.

With a few quick strides of her long legs, Patsy hurried ahead to gallantly hold open the door for the small Welshwoman. She was rewarded by a blushing smile and sparkling eyes as Delia passed her, before the brunettes attention was consumed by her new surroundings. 

The cathedral-like interior of the Central Hall was spectacular in itself. From the row of arches along both sides leading to the grand staircase at the far end, to the intricate panels of hand-painted flora that adorned the ceiling, the building was beautiful. Light streamed in through the skylight panels that ran along either side of the ceiling artwork, and the hum of human voices milling about echoed all around them. Standing pride of place in the center of the floor was the elephant exhibit, surrounded by glass cases displaying various exotic bird species. Patsy had been here twice before, but was still struck by the grandness of it all. There was one difference about this visit, though. The main focus of Patsy’s attention was the petite woman in the blue dress, whose bright eyes were impossibly wide as she walked slowly around the exhibit, drinking in every detail and snippet of displayed information. 

Just then, Delia looked away from the case of small birds to seek out her blonde companion. Patsy, who had very nearly been caught staring at her, made a beeline for the smaller woman.

“I must say, I can’t decide what’s most impressive,” She said as she reached the brunette, “The architecture, the ceiling, or these enormous creatures, here.” _Or you,_ she added in the privacy of her own thoughts.

“It’s all magnificent,” Delia responded as she looked all around herself again, then upwards, “I hadn’t even noticed the ceiling yet. What a delightful hidden treasure!”

“I suppose one doesn’t automatically look up when there’s a rather large elephant specimen staring them directly in the face,” Patsy mused. She looked up at the blank eyes of the creature before her, made even taller by the large stand on which is was displayed. Delia was now occupied by the information display, her brow creased in concentration. When she was done reading, she walked the short distance back to Patsy and stood beside her, both now looking at the elephant.

“I can’t help but feel a bit sad for them,” Delia said quietly, “I hope they died naturally. As interesting as he is, it would be a shame to see such a beautiful creature brought down for the sake of a museum piece.”

Ever the tender heart. Patsy felt a fresh wave of affection at the words. It was just like Delia to be more concerned for the welfare of the creatures than advances in scientific discovery. “Surely it would be the former,” Patsy tried to reassure her, “Now how about we leave this fellow and see if we can’t find that Delapigus of yours.”

“Diplodocus.” Delia corrected her, not for the first time that day, with a hint of exasperation. It had turned into a sort of game for Patsy, coming up with all manner of intentional mispronunciations just to get a rise out of the brunette. The pair turned from the tusked mammals and headed out of the Central Hall in search of other interesting exhibits.

An hour passed in a blink as the two women wove their way through displays filled with all manner of birds, fossils, and creepy crawlies. If it hadn’t been for the loud protests of Delia’s stomach, the fact that it was now well past time for luncheon would have gone entirely unnoticed. The look of mortification on Delia’s face when the rumbling of her insides echoed in the otherwise quiet room was enough to send both women into a fit of giggles before seeking out a secluded bench.

Once seated, Patsy began taking the neatly packaged food items from her bag, holding out two paper-wrapped sandwiches for Delia’s inspection. “Would you prefer tuna, or cheese?” She asked, holding up each one in turn.

Delia wrinkled her nose up at the mention of tuna and quickly took the cheese sandwich from Patsy’s hand. “I’ll take cheese over fish any day!” She said, eyeing the remaining parcel with a weary expression.

“Well that works out in my favour, then,” Patsy responded. “I’m not the biggest fan of cheese but the supplies were meager today so I had to make do with what was available.” Slender fingers worked the paper expertly, creating two tidy portions for her to consume.

Delia had already opened hers fully and had it perched precariously on her lap. “Then I guess we make an excellent match,” She said, followed by a bite of her sandwich.

Patsy studied the food in her hands as she felt a wave of heat spreading to her face, _’An excellent match’_ ringing around in her head. Her heart desperately wanted to read something more into that statement but her head didn’t dare allow it. Instead, she took a bite of her sandwich. Having food to chew would stop her from saying anything she might regret. Delia didn’t seem to notice her go quiet, or at least if she did, she didn’t let on. 

“Can you believe there’s so many different kinds of spiders and insects? I suppose this section would be the thing of nightmares for a lot of people,” She chatted between mouthfuls of bread and cheese, “I’m not bothered by creepy crawlies at all, but I have to say I’m impressed to see you aren’t, either.”

Patsy paused, her sandwich poised halfway between her lap and her mouth. “I suppose the camp taught me that there’s worse things than bugs and spiders.” She said softly.

“Oh, Pats,” Delia dropped her hands into her lap, sandwich and all, in disgust with herself, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think how tactless that was.” Deep pools of worried blue searched Patsy’s face.

“It’s ok, Deels, really,” Patsy reassured her, “No harm done.” She leaned sideways to nudge the smaller woman with her shoulder playfully. “Better finish that sandwich or we’ll never get through everything. We can’t have you missing the Diplodomus.”

Delia chuckled at Patsy’s attempt to cheer her and went to take another bite of her sandwich. Before she did so, she couldn’t help herself and mumbled under her breath, “Diplodocus.”

With their hunger soon abated, the duo packed away their things and continued their exploration of the museum’s many rooms filled with various preserved critters and skeletal reconstructions. Patsy had discreetly managed to act as a sort of guide through the maze of rooms, intentionally saving the Reptile Gallery for last. She found Delia’s fascination with the dinosaur remains and replicas to be endearing, and knew that once she had found the Diplodocus she was so excited to see, that the rest of the museum’s displays would pale in comparison to it.

The afternoon was wearing on when at last they had covered all else that was left to be seen. After a sly check of her watch, Patsy navigated them back in the direction of the Reptile Gallery. It quickly became apparent to Delia that she had been tricked into thinking that it was normally the last place to be seen, and that in fact Patsy had been intentionally avoiding it. As they passed back through the insects and fish that they had seen at the very start of the afternoon, she stopped, placing her hands on her hips and resting more of her weight on one foot. Patsy didn’t notice her stop until she had walked an extra four or five paces. She halted and turned back to see where Delia had gone. Delia met her gaze with an unimpressed scowl.

“Patience Mount, I can’t believe you tricked me!” She began, her Welsh accent thicker with annoyance. “You know how much I’ve wanted to see the dinosaur and you deliberately kept me from it.”

“Of course I kept you from it,” Patsy replied calmly. She was not intimidated by the smaller woman. “If we had gone in there at the beginning, the rest of the museum would have been lost to you.”

“That’s not the point,” Delia started again, her agitation still evident by her creased brow.

“Come not, Deels. Haven’t you ever heard of saving the best ‘til last?” Patsy closed the gap between them and took Delia’s small hand into her own. With a gentle tug, she had the brunette in tow, all arguments halted as they approached the archway into the reptile section.

The shift in Delia’s emotion was almost tangible the moment that the object of her fascination came into view. There, in the centre of the long room, proudly stood the plaster of paris replica of the Diplodocus skeleton. Though she had seen it before, Patsy still found herself impressed by the scale of it. Turning to look at Delia, she watched as the Welshwoman stood, eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning, staring at it. 

“Quite a decent sized, chap, wasn’t he?” Patsy remarked, but she received no response. She had forgotten the smaller hand woven in her own until she felt it pull away, leaving her now deserted hand feeling acutely cold and empty. She clenched her fingers into a loose fist and fidgeted with the seam of her trousers as Delia walked slowly towards the railing surrounding the model. The tap of dainty shoes rang loudly the high ceilings of the deserted room. Patsy made a futile attempt to quieten her steps as she followed Delia around the base of the enormous creature. 

They stopped walking when they reached the information board. Delia reached out and gently brushed her fingers over the letters as she quietly spoke the specimen’s nickname with reverence. “Dippy.”

Patsy couldn’t fully understand why the brunette had such a fascination with the prehistoric creatures, but she did feel a sense of pride that she had been the one to make the fulfilment of one of Delia’s childhood dreams possible. She felt the weariness and aching that had grown progressively stronger through the afternoon slowly drain away from her tired body as she watched the joy and marvel on Delia’s face, and felt no regret in staying up after her shift for this. 

The light coming in through the high windows was becoming increasingly more golden as the late afternoon sun was making its descent. Patsy knew they would need to go soon, but she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for her day to end. Tomorrow, Delia would be doing her day shift, and their rosters for the next two weeks allowed very little time for them to see much of each other.

Delia had walked around the Sauropod another time while Patsy was lost in thought, and had now come to stand beside the tall blonde. A breath of the smaller woman's sweet perfume reawakened Patsy's senses, breaking her out of her musings. She looked down at the woman standing close beside her. It appeared Delia had seen enough of her beloved dinosaur, because she had turned her delighted face upwards to face Patsy, a dimpled smile spread across it.

“Judging by that smile, I’d take it you’ve enjoyed your afternoon,” Patsy said, her own lips responding to the contagious joy on the Welshwoman’s face.

“Enjoyed it?” Delia replied. “Pats, it’s been such a wonderful day. It’s like the best first date anyone could hope for.”

Patsy’s breath hitched in her throat at Delia’s words. _Best first date… but surely she can’t mean…_

Her eyes must have shown her surprise. Delia’s own eyes widened in the realisation of what she had said, and a crimson hue illuminated her cheeks in an instant. 

“I… Well... what I mean is..” She stumbled over her words in her haste to make excuses, but Patsy did not hear them. All she could here were the words ‘first date’ ringing around in her head, and the sound of the blood rushing by her ears. The golden light was reflecting off the crown of Delia’s rich, chocolate-coloured hair like a halo, and the blush in her cheeks made her even more beautiful.

She was irresistible.

It happened so quickly that Patsy didn’t have time to think it through. In a split second, her crimson lips found those of an unsuspecting Delia. Delia’s lips were just as soft and perfect as they had seemed in Patsy’s daydreams, and the feeling of them on her own sent her dizzy with ecstasy, but she did not linger. 

The adrenaline of the moment shot through her like fire, and she pulled back instantly, eyes wild with fear. What had she done!? Her heart hammered in her chest and the milliseconds seemed to pass as though time had all but stopped. She met Delia’s gaze, afraid of what she might see there. The merry blue eyes of moments before were now as wide as stunned as her own. Her mouth hung slightly ajar, as though words were trapped half way out.

**_THUMP… THUMP…_**  
She knew her heart was pounding like a hummingbird’s but it seemed so slow.

“DINOSAUR!!! DINOSAAAUUUURR!!!!” 

Two heads snapped towards the entry as a small boy came racing into the room, his echoed squeals of delighted excitement slicing through the silence. Patsy’s gaze returned back to Delia’s face, searching for an answer to a question she was far too afraid to ask.

Delia did not look back at her. Instead, she turned towards the arch leading out, and took a few shaky steps in that direction. Her voice wavered a little as her words cut into Patsy’s chest.

“We should go, it’s getting late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's my longest chapter so far (Not that it compares with some of the epic works of other writers here. Give me time, I might get there!) but it was also the chapter that took the longest to complete. Not only because of the increased word count, but also the research. 
> 
> I have never been to England, and so have never been to the Museum of Natural History. I do hope that through my research I have done enough justice to it, and that those of you who may have been fortunate enough to visit it aren't offended by any possible mistakes. 
> 
> In case of any confusion, the Natural History Museum was officially known as the British Museum (Natural History) until 1992, despite legal separation from the British Museum itself in 1963. 'Dippy' the diplodocus was a favourite among museum goers, and was displayed there from 1905 until 2017, when it was taken down to prepare it for a national tour. The 26 meter long replica was too long to display in the Fossil Reptile Gallery, and so was mounted in the Reptile Gallery until it was later shifted into Hintze Hall (originally known as the Central Hall until it was more recently renamed after a wealthy donor) in 1979.


	22. Pouring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia reflects on the museum trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to write this new chapter. I hope it's not been too long!

Glossy paint met soft pink as the six sides of the pencil rolled across a plump bottom lip. Absentmindedly, teeth found their way to it, and the faint crunch of wood grinding between her teeth immediately broke Delia from her daydream. She cringed at the feeling of the wood as the fibres crushed. She hadn't chewed a pencil since she was just a small girl in her first few years of school. The sensation of it now was still causing the back of her neck to tighten in discomfort, even as she placed the blemished pencil down across the blank page of the writing pad sitting before her. 

Her weekly letter home to Wales was now four days late, and she knew her Mam would be worried sick about it by now. It's a wonder she hadn't shown up at the door to the nurses’ home already. The thought of such a possibility was what had landed Delia at the small, well worn desk in the corner of the relatively quiet common room now. Two of the more… eccentric girls in the group of would-be nurses were tittering amongst themselves from the seating area to the left of her. Delia couldn't help but roll her eyes a little at them. Ordinarily she would have much more patience for that sort of thing, but lately she found herself to be more irritable and snappy than her usual sweet disposition had ever allowed previously. 

Once again she turned back to the paper and picked up the assaulted stationary. The intent to write was there, but as yet Delia could not focus on the task long enough to write even a single word. Again, the pencil found its way back to agitating her lip for a moment. With a sigh, she etched her usual salutations at the top of the page and wished for the second time that she had a pen. The pen she normally wrote with was sitting in its usual place on her desk in her room. On the desk she usually sat at to write. The desk in her quiet room with all the solitude she usually enjoyed when she was writing home. The desk she could not recently bring herself to sit at without a swell of anxiety building in her chest. What was once a comfortable place was now a lonely corner where she felt even more isolated as Patsy's continued cold indifference seemed to permeate the shared wall of their rooms. 

Anguished blue eyes once more swam in Delia's vision. She squeezed her own eyes shut and pressed her index fingers against her eyelids in a bid to wipe the memory away. That look from Patsy had only been fleeting, quickly replaced by the dull glaze of her cold stone facade, rebuilt in an instant. One moment had been enough, though, to etch it permanently in Delia’s mind. She had spent the past week and a half desperately trying to erase it but her attempts were futile. Each small and awkward encounter with Patsy since then had sent it all flooding back, just when she thought she was making progress. 

 

_“Pats…” Delia started quietly as the bus rumbled away from a stop._

_“I don’t know where those clouds have rolled in from but it looks like perhaps we’ll be in for some rain tonight.” Patsy interjected with cool indifference._

_“Patsy, we need to talk--”_

_“That would be an unfortunate end to what was, for the most part, a lovely day.” Patsy continued._

_Delia felt her stomach lurch at the loaded words. It was clear to her that Patsy wasn’t talking solely about the weather any longer. She clenched her hands tighter in her lap and turned her head to look, unseeing, out of the bus windows. The lamps illuminating the dusky streets of London blurred as tears stung at her eyes and her throat felt as though she had swallowed an apple whole._

 

That same choking feeling claimed her now, and suddenly the common area felt far too stuffy and small. The northern accents of the two girls chattering away mixed with her own breathing flooded Delia’s ears in a crescendo of deafening white noise. She stood to her feet, sending the chair scraping noisily along the scuffed wooden floor. Abandoning the desk, poorly started letter and all, Delia hastily exited the room and made for the front door in a desperate search for some fresh air. 

She did not feel the biting chill in the wind as she walked with no particular destination. The cold couldn’t sting any more than the tears did, leaving her eyes to make tracks down her burning cheeks. It couldn’t make her lungs ache any more than the tight, crushing feeling in her chest already did. The cold felt right in this moment. Fitting.

 

_The bus arrived in Whitechapel at approximately the same moment that the heavens had decided to release their heavy burden. With the delightful sunshine of the day, Delia had left the nurses’ home unprepared for such a predicament._

_Patsy, however, had not. Reliable, ever-prepared Patsy._

_As she alighted from the bus, the first few drops of freezing cold rain assaulted Delia’s scalp and face. She flinched at the impact, but suddenly their stinging presence came to an abrupt halt. Opening her eyes, Delia looked up at the still stone-faced Patsy, who was holding her umbrella over the Welshwoman, her arm extended, silently offering the handle._

_“You’re taller, Pats, you hold the umbrella to your height,” Delia had to raise her voice to be heard over the rain and the roaring engine of the bus as it pulled away from the bus stop._

_Patsy said nothing, simply holding the handle out further and staring Delia down with a look that bade no argument. Delia gingerly reached for the umbrella and took a shaky step toward the blonde. Patsy, as always, was one step ahead of her and had spun abruptly on her heel to stride away in the direction of the nurses’ home. By now, her blonde hair was plastered to her face like the paper mache crafts Delia had done as a child. Water was running in rivulets down her face and disappearing into the collar of her shirt. The woolen coat was becoming visibly heavier with each second spent in the downpour._

_“Patsy don’t be ridiculous,” Delia half shouted over the deafening sound of rain hitting waterproof fabric. She was met once again with silence from the blonde, and a frustrated growl rumbled in her throat. She forced her weary legs to a half jog, trying to catch up with Patsy whilst maintaining her footing on the now-slippery street._

 

A shiver broke through Delia’s thoughts and she realised for the first time that she had walked out into the winter air in nothing but a dress and cardigan. She looked around at her surroundings, her heart starting to hammer again as she failed to recognise anything. She had been so upset that she walked blindly out into the cold and now did not know how to get back. 

“Miss, are you quite all right?” A man’s voice startled Delia. “Pardon me if I overstep but it’s far too cold to be out without at least a coat?”

Delia turned to face the stranger, brow furrowed in concern and confusion. He looked vaguely familiar, but Delia couldn't place him. Perhaps the cold had addled her brain.

“Nurse?” the pitch of his voice raised in surprise along with his eyebrows.

Delia stared at him a moment longer, still silent, while she searched the far reaches of her mind until it dawned on her who he was. It was no wonder she had trouble recalling him. Their encounter several days ago had been brief. 

“Oh, Umm.. Hello,” she stammered, embarrassed at being seen by one of her patient’s loved ones in such a state.

“Nurse Busby, isn’t it?” The gentleman asked as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Yes, that’s me,” Delia answered through chattering teeth, the cold now seeping into her bones. “You obviously have a better memory than I. I am sorry but I’ve forgotten your name? You came in with Mr Avery, didn’t you?”

He stepped toward her, coat outstretched, and draped it around her shoulders. At first Delia felt dreadfully uncomfortable and embarrassed, but the warmth of the coat quickly overtook any ill feeling about the encounter. It felt heavy and comforting, and smelled of soap and a faint hint of men’s cologne that Delia had never fancied the smell of before now.

“I can assure you there is nothing wrong with your memory, Nurse,” He said as he ushered her in the direction from which he had seen her appear. “I never did get an opportunity to introduce myself. That ward sister runs a tight ship, it seems, and I’ve not seen you on the ward since.”

Delia chuckled, remembering clearer now that her body was not shutting down with cold. She pulled the coat tighter around her as they walked, trying to block out as much wind as she could. “She does rather. I do apologise for the way she shooed you out. It’s the same for any new patient that arrives on the ward. She says the family talk too much and get in the way of the hand-over. As for me, I’ve been on night shifts these past few days.”

“I can imagine that would be the case,” He smiled down at her, “Regardless, now I have the opportunity,” he offered out his hand in an awkward sideways handshake, “I’m Michael.”

“Delia,” she said simply, returning the shake and the smile. The pair walked on for a few more moments in silence. The sound of shoes clicking on the path and traffic rumbling along the road was enough to fill the void. Delia was acutely aware of the fact that Michael was now walking in this cold air without a coat, and was doing her best to keep the pace up, but she was still unsure of her surroundings. How far had she blindly walked in her upset state?

“Might I ask where you were headed, Nurse Busby?” He asked, “Or, I suppose a more helpful question right now would be, where did you come from?”

Delia’s cheeks burned from embarrassment as well as the cold, and she dipped her head to avoid eye contact. “I came from the nurses’ home. I needed to take a walk and it seems I was too deep in thought to concentrate on where I was going.”

“I see,” he said, no hint of derision in his tone. “It must have been rather an impromptu walk for you to have ventured out without a coat or scarf. I won’t pry but I do hope something is not weighing too heavily on your mind.”

The gentleness of his words were a comfort to Delia. With Patsy stonewalling her, she had come to realise that she had no one else in this big city. The class of would-be nurses had well and truly divided into tight-knit groups by now. Even if Delia had wanted to seek the company of her peers, it would be difficult to integrate herself into a new social circle. She let out a sigh, her breath showing as a puff of pale steam through the frosty air. She shouldn’t be talking to Michael, either. This sort of nurse to patient, or in this case nurse to patient’s family, encounter would not be deemed acceptable by her superiors.

“I do feel terribly silly,” Delia answered quietly. “I’m not normally one to get myself into messes like this. I suppose I could have frozen solid before I found my way back if you hadn’t happened along.”

“Well I’m glad I could help,” Michael answered, ushering her around a corner. As they left the protection of the building beside them, a gust of cold wind whipped in their faces. Michael hunched his shoulders and adjusted his jacket, trying to discreetly brace himself against the chill. Delia noticed, of course, and once again felt guilty about the warm woolen overcoat around her shoulders. She looked around and noticed with relief that she now recognised her surroundings. The nurses’ home was only a block away.

“I know the way from here,” Delia said as she started to unpeel the coat from her shoulders. “It’s not far at all and you must be freezing by now.”

Michael held up his hands in protest before taking the coat and draping it back over her. “You keep the coat on,” He insisted. “As you said, it isn’t far now, and I would rather see you safely home personally.”

“But Mr Avery, you---”

“Michael.” He interrupted her protests. “Mr Avery is William’s name.”

“Very well, but I can’t call you Michael on the ward. The Sister would have my head if she heard me address my patient’s family by their christian name.” She was about to continue her protests about the coat, but they were now just at the final corner before the nurses’ home. 

“Well, Nurse Busby, I believe this is your stop?” He looked over her head to his left at the old stone building.

“Yes,” Delia once again removed the coat and handed it to her escort. “Thank you.” Her words were quiet and seemed inadequate, but she was unsure what else to say.

“Glad I could help,” He said, offering another small smile. He donned his coat and adjusted his hat. “Now you best get inside before you start to freeze again.”

Delia shivered from the cold and nodded. She turned and made her way towards the door. As she approached, she turned back to offer a wave, but Michael had disappeared from sight. 

***

A scuffed red cricket ball landed with a slap into Delia’s waiting hand. She had warmed up considerably in the few hours since her walk in the cold earlier that day. The crocheted rug made by her grandmother now covered only her legs, the weight of it more desired as a comfort than a source of heat. She tossed the ball back up in the air and caught it again before holding it above her face for inspection. She knew every thread and blemish on this ball, every fleck of faded gold paint still printed on it. Evan’s mother had given it to her on the day of his funeral. She had told young Delia that he would have wanted her to have it, and the teary older woman’s words still rang clear as day in Delia’s head whenever she looked at it.

_“Live your life without regrets, dear child,”_

She let her arm fall onto the bed beside her and unconsciously rubbed her thumb over the red stained stitching as she felt the swirl begin again in her abdomen.

_Without regrets,_ she thought with an exasperated groan. She certainly had at least one regret. 

That last day with Patsy had been the most wonderful of Delia’s life so far. Patsy hadn’t wanted to tell Delia where they were going, it was supposed to be a surprise, she had said. At the time, Delia had been too concerned that Patsy would be far too tired for any outing after working another long night shift. She had told Patsy that she wasn’t going to let her go anywhere but to bed unless she had something extremely important planned. Begrudgingly, Patsy had relented and told Delia where they were going. Needless to say, the dizzying excitement of the smaller woman had quickly replaced any concern, and Patsy was free to change out of her uniform and continue on with her plans.

Delia had felt all along that this day together was special somehow. The two spent most of their available spare time together, and before this placement they had done many little outings when time had allowed it, but this felt different. Patsy had planned this just for her. She was sacrificing much needed and well deserved sleep just for her. As she scurried about figuring out what clothing would be appropriate for the weather and the activity, Delia had made a conscious effort to quiet her brain and not read too much into this. Pasty was just being her wonderful, thoughtful self, and there was nothing more to it. 

The day was mild and sunny, the bus ride was a delight, and when they had finally arrived at their destination, Patsy had been the perfect attentive escort. Delia had butterflies in her stomach as Patsy held open the door for her, and a heat crept to her face as her elated smile was reflected by the blonde. Oh, how that smile of hers sent Delia’s heart hammering.

Delia resumed the tossing and catching of her ball as she remembered with a smirk the moment she had caught Patsy staring at her. She had been looking at the displays of birds in the central hall when she had felt, more than seen, the blonde’s eyes on her. She caught a glimpse of Patsy’s face in the reflection of the glass cabinet, and feigned several more moments of interest in the exhibit, relishing the feeling of being admired by Patsy. Again, she had felt the niggling hope inside her that perhaps the feelings she had for the tall woman were reciprocated after all. She tied to push it back again as wishful thinking, but as she turned to seek out her companion, the flustered blush of Patsy being caught out watching her sent the butterflies right back to fluttering.

“I must say, I can’t decide what’s most impressive, the architecture, the ceiling, or these enormous creatures, here.” Patsy had said.

The most impressive thing to Delia right now was the gorgeous blonde standing before her, but of course she could not say such a thing. The best she could come up with was, “It’s all magnificent.”

By the time they sat down to eat Patsy’s thoughtfully prepared lunch, the blonde had made a perfect opportunity for Delia to test her growing certainty of Patsy’s feelings. As the words ‘perfect match’ passed her lips, she felt a split second of immediate panic before taking notice of Patsy’s sudden interest in her own sandwich. Clearly what she had said had hit a mark. In typical Patsy style, she had changed the subject.

That afternoon was so wonderful for Delia. She found herself on several occasions thinking about how this would definitely qualify as the most perfect first date. She had never been on a date before, and this was never labeled or suggested as such by Patsy, of course. Nevertheless, in the privacy of Delia’s own thoughts, that’s what it had become. Even if she never had another date in her life, she would always have this one to cherish. Patsy had made such a memorable day just for her. All the playful ribbing and careful maneuvering to land Delia at the diplodocus last was the thoughtful icing on an already delightful cake. 

And then, the kiss.

If only she could turn back time to make that moment right. The feeling of Patsy’s warm, soft lips on her own had been ecstacy to Delia. She could still feel the tingle of electricity on them whenever she thought about it. It had felt so right. So perfect… and so soul-crushingly final. In that moment, Delia knew that the way she had felt all her life, and more importantly, the way she felt about Patsy now, was not a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t something she would grow out of. It wasn’t something she would forget about if she did relent to her mother’s nagging to find a good man and settle down in Pembrokeshire. Delia was in love with this woman and never wanted to love anyone else, even if that meant giving up everything she knew. But what about Patsy? Could she feel that way, too? The emotion had been so overwhelming that Delia thought she might faint. Hours passed in seconds as the two had stood staring wide eyed at each other, the world around them drowned out by the sound of beating drums within their ribcages. She wanted to kiss Patsy again. She wanted to pour out all the feelings she had locked inside. She wanted to burst into tears of joy, and then that child’s voice had snapped her back to reality. The reality that this was never going to be so simple.

Delia willed her heart to slow it’s maddening thumping as she heard footsteps walking up the corridor. The unmistakable familiar footfalls of her neighbour clipped their way along, increasing in volume as she came nearer. Delia sat up on the edge of her bed, ball still clenched in her hand, as the footsteps slowed to a stop outside of her door. She held her breath, waiting for a knock or a whisper of words, but none came. Only a moment of hesitant silence before the footsteps closed the small gap to Patsy’s own door. Delia flopped back down on her bed and listened to the sounds of Patsy moving about her room. Her heart ached and tears stung her eyes.

Placing the ball back on her bedside table, Delia slipped her fingers under her pillow and pulled out the little square of fabric folded perfectly beneath it. Trembling fingers traced the letters embroidered in the corner that were now blurred through the tears in her eyes. ‘P.E.M.’

“Oh, Patsy,” She whispered around the lump in her throat, “If only you knew how much it hurts to love you.”


	23. The Voice Under All Silences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The turmoil continues.

Patsy tore the card in her hand in half, and then halves again. She crinkled up the red envelope on the bed and threw the lot unceremoniously into the small waste basket in the corner. Another impersonal Christmas card written in the hand of her father’s assistant on his behalf. She snorted again at the generic message from inside. 

_‘Thinking of you at this merry time of year’._

“Ha.” She muttered under her breath. More than likely, her name was simply one of many scribbled on a list somewhere of people that needed a card sent to them, and that was all the thought that Charles Mount put into it. Well, if nothing else, whoever this new assistant was certainly had himself in order. Usually she wouldn’t receive her card until after Christmas, and yet here this was, only the 12th of December. _Good,_ she thought, _now it’s over and done with._

Agitated, she crossed to the window of her room and peered through the sheer curtains at the grey world beyond it. Grey buildings, grey coats, scarves, and hats, grey clouds looming threateningly overhead. Funny, she had forgotten how dull and lifeless things seemed before. When Delia had quite literally blown into her life, Patsy’s view of the world had changed with it. The small Welshwoman had a way of making everything seem better, brighter, and more fun. 

“Ugh,” she huffed in frustration and turned away from the window as though it would stop the thoughts of Delia. “You have got to get over this, Patience,” she scolded.

Looking once more at her silver fob watch, she was relieved to see it was finally time for her to leave for her shift without being ridiculously early. She smoothed the coarse fabric of her purple passions and checked the mirror to ensure her hair was still perfectly pinned. With annoyance, she noticed the dark rings under her eyes, her lack of sleep evident there, and turned quickly away to stride out of her room.

“Heigh ho,” She muttered as she began her short trip to the hospital once more. “Thank goodness for work.”

 

*** 

 

Heavy doors swung silently open, making way for an efficient flurry of pale purple and white to sweep into action on the ward. A few greetings of, “Hello, Nurse” were responded to with polite nods and smiles on the way to receive orders and handover from the Ward Sister.

“Good afternoon, Nurse,” The curt ward sister greeted her. “It’s been a relatively quiet day so far…” A detailed progression of all notable changes and stats were absorbed with much more effectiveness after nearly six full weeks on the ward. Just when it seemed like everyone’s name and condition was committed to memory, the placement was nearly over and the nursing students would begin their next round of classroom time and placement.

“And, last of all,” The ward sister dropped her voice even further, indicating some delicate information was to follow. “Bed 7 has definitely taken a turn for the worst. He has brief moments of lucidity, but otherwise is unresponsive. Circulation to the extremities has decreased and some episodes of cheyne-stoking have begun. I would be surprised if he lasted the night.”

Delia nodded solemnly to her superior and turned without another word to begin her rounds. She walked to Bed 1 and offered a small smile to the frail little woman sitting diligently by the side of her terminally ill husband. Her wrinkled, arthritis-ridden hand was tucked into the paw of the enormous man lying in the bed. He smiled at his wife and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before turning to Delia.

“‘Ello, Nurse. Perhaps you’d have better luck convincing my dear Bette that she’s better off heading home to relax than sitting in that cold--” His sentence was broken off by a bed-rattling cough. Regaining his composure, he continued. “Ahem, sorry. That cold hard chair all afternoon.”

“Hello, Mr Tibbins.” Delia’s concerned brow indicated her hesitance, but she turned and smiled again at the old woman, “Mrs Tibbins, I usually don’t get into the middle of these sorts of things but you do look awfully tired.” She leaned toward Bette and dropped her voice to just above a whisper for the next part, “Perhaps this time you should let Mr Bossy-Boots win? Just this once.” 

Bette chuckled at the mischievous comment, to which Mr Tibbins furrowed his brow and looked back and forth between the two women. “What are you women folk up to now?” He asked with distrust.

“Nothing, my love,” Bette patted his hand with her free one and pulled herself up to a shaky stand. “Dear Nurse Busby was just doing as you asked and convincing me to get these old bones home and to bed early.” She shuffled up to the head of the bed and placed a firm kiss on the old man’s temple, leaving a bright red lipstick smear in her wake. 

After a few parting words and a dear little wave from the old woman, Bette Tibbins shuffled her way unsteadily down the centre aisle and out of the big doors. The bear of a man lying in the bed beside where Delia stood watched her go the entire way, paying no mind to the Welsh nurse as she bustled about him taking observations and checking his chart.

“You know, Nurse, I always thought she’d out-live me by a mile.” His crackly deep voice made Delia look up from what she was doing. “I hoped she would, being that I love her so much I’d die of loneliness without her. This bleedin’ cancer was supposed to make sure of it, too, but I just don’t know. She looks so fragile nowadays.” His watery eyes were green pools of concern for his beloved.

Delia placed a comforting hand on his blanket-covered foot. “She’s tougher than you think, Mr Tibbins.” She said quietly before moving on to continue her rounds.

 

As she completed the necessary checks on the sleeping gentleman in bed 3, Delia’s mind wandered once more to the blonde that consumed her thoughts almost constantly. The emotional rollercoaster she had been on since the museum trip refused to let her off. The night before last as she lay awake in her bed, sleep evading her again, her sadness took a sudden and unexpected turn into anger. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that drove her emotion to change, or maybe it was just her mind’s way of dealing with the situation, but either way, Delia couldn’t help but feel resentment towards Patsy. After all, it was Patsy that kissed her. Sure, Delia had wanted it, and sure, she had leaned in instead of pulling away, but nonetheless it was Patsy that started it. 

A niggling sense of guilt ate away at her insides. She was still angry, still hurt, but she couldn’t help but feel regret and dread at her actions from yesterday. Once again she cursed her impulsive predisposition. Maybe if she was lucky the Royal Mail would misplace her letter or deliver it to the wrong address. Unlikely. No, it was entirely probable that by now Jack would be receiving her invitation to the Christmas social and penning his response. The only luck she could hope for now is that he had other plans for that evening or even that he simply didn’t wish to accompany her.

The ward doors once again swung open, and Delia looked up from finishing her checks on bed 5 to see who had entered. Polished shoes, a tidy grey suit, and a waft of familiar aftershave greeted her, and her stomach fell instantly to the floor.

Michael.

Nervously, Delia hurried her final notes and placed the chart back in the holder. She made her way to the next bed just in time for Michael to arrive. He looked down at the drawn face of a slumbering William Avery, and Delia watched his own face turn as grey as his suit. Clearly he could see that not all was well. He looked up at Delia then, dark brown eyes filled with unvoiced questions. 

“Mr Avery’s condition has deteriorated through the night and this morning.” Delia said quietly.

Michael didn’t answer, just sat down in the seat beside the bed as though all his strength had been sapped. His hand reached out of its own accord to touch that of the pale young man lying motionless in the bed. He quickly snapped it back, however, and his eyes darted immediately around before landing back on Delia.

In that moment, it suddenly all made sense. For the few seconds that Delia stared into those eyes, she saw her own self reflected there. She saw the love between two people that society deemed immoral. She saw the paralysing fear of discovery, the paranoia that any look or touch could give them away. She saw the pain of a man who was losing the person he loved that he had to mourn in secret, and her heart felt crushed by the weight of it all. 

Michael looked away then, dipping his head in what could be misconstrued as shame, but Delia knew to be resignation. He had given them away. 

“Michael,” she said softly, moving closer so as to not be heard by others. She hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on the curtain. “I’ll give you some privacy to be alone with him.” 

As she pulled the pale yellow curtain around bed 7, Michael watched her. He needn’t have said a word, for as Delia excused herself to give them some privacy, his expression said it all.

 

As the shift slowly ticked by, Delia kept one eye on the closed curtain, making sure to be the one who was closest for when the next round of observations were due. This new revelation was a shock to Delia’s system, and she found it very difficult to concentrate. Each glance in the direction of the closed curtain sent her stomach swirling until she thought she might be sick. This reaction could not be further from the disgust that anyone else might feel, though. On the one hand, she was elated to have come across someone like her, someone who knew what it felt like to be different and to not be able to switch off that difference. On the other, it was like a crushing reality check. A future with the one she loved would be wrought with paranoia and censorship, with secrecy and lies. It seemed no matter which path Delia chose, she could never be entirely happy. Would a life lived in secret be worth it if she could love Patsy in private in the way she so desperately wanted to?

“Doesn’t matter, you ruined it anyway,” She mumbled to herself.

“What was that, Nurse Busby?” Nurse Larson interrupted her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Delia’s face burned a little in embarrassment, “I was just thinking out loud. Nothing important.”

The supervising nurse gave her a curt nod and bustled off to continue her own tasks. Nurse Larson was one Delia had worked with before. Nice enough, but not overly chatty. The stout older woman had a no-nonsense sort of attitude, but there was a twinkle in her eye when she received some good natured ribbing from Mr Culter, who’s father was in bed 4, and compassion in her voice as she tended to the inconsolable wife of a patient who had been shifted to the ward the previous evening. Compassionate, yes, but Delia doubted she would be at all understanding about the situation between Michael and William. No, it was definitely important that she be the one to tend to him. 

Delia’s tender heart ached for all the patients and their loved ones who ended up here. Palliative care was no picnic, and quite frankly Delia found it to be severely lacking. The nurses did their best, but the patients here were so terribly ill and often in a world of pain. Sure, some patients like Mr Tibbins put up a tough front, but they were here for one reason and there was nothing pleasant about it. In some ways it seemed a relief when a patient did pass. Often they went in their sleep in the wee hours of the night, and Delia wondered if perhaps it were possible that they waited for some quiet privacy to die. Naturally the loved ones were deeply saddened at the loss, some of them even angry with themselves or their loved one for not being there, but there was also a noticeable calm that descended upon them as well. The deceased was no longer suffering.

Visiting hours were quickly coming to an end when Delia did her next round of observations. As she came to the drawn curtain, she cleared her throat as warning that she was coming in. She let herself quietly in and made her way to the end of the bed to pick up the chart. Michael was right where she had left him, but this time his hands were woven with the pale, clammy left hand of his love. He made no effort to move or hide it, simply raising his tear-filled eyes to Delia in greeting, then turning back to William. 

William’s stats were continuing their downward trend, and it became painfully clear to Delia that the Ward Sister’s prediction would likely be correct. Delia wished with all her heart that she could allow Michael to stay with him, but she knew it could not be. She had tried once before to get permission for a wife stay with her husband a little longer and had been severely reprimanded for suggesting such a thing. She checked her watch as she finished making her notes and felt her heavy heart sink further.

“Michael…” she started.

“He woke for a few moments.” Michael interrupted her. “He smiled at me, even managed to say my name.”

Delia’s heart felt as though it were being ripped to pieces as his husky, tear-filled voice spoke. “I’m glad he knew you were here with him.” She said.

“Visiting hours are up.” He stated simply, still not looking away from the grey face.

“Yes, I’m afraid they are. I wish I could let you stay a while longer bu--”

“It’s ok.” He stopped her again. “We’ve had our time, I’ve said my piece, now he can rest quietly.”

Michael stood then, gently freeing his hands and placing William’s back on the bed with care. His fingers lingered for a moment on the ring finger, brushing the spot where a small indent in the skin indicated a ring had once been worn there for a significant amount of time. As he bent to place a kiss on William’s forehead, the Welsh nurse dipped her head away to give them some privacy. A lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, but she managed to hold back tears. She heard him whisper something she did not even try to hear, and then made his way around to the side of the bed where she stood. 

“Nurse Busby… Delia,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “Thank you.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, leaving a small piece of folded paper in her palm as he did so. She gave him a watery smile, no words needing to be said, and slipped the paper into her small pocket.

Michael straightened his shirt and pulled on his jacket, using that brief moment to compose himself, and slipped quietly from the curtained room and out of the ward without looking back. 

 

***

 

The cold night air felt refreshing on her face as Delia left the hospital after her shift. Finally she could open the floodgates to the crushing emotion she had been holding back all evening. Hot tears pushed their way out and left streaks down her face that stung from the frosty air. As she neared the nurses home, she slowed, not ready to go in just yet. Along the side of the building was a small alcove with a bench, often used through the day and early evening by the smokers. At this late hour it was abandoned, and Delia made her way over to it.

Slumped slightly, her thick winter gear helping to hold her upright, Delia broke down. She grieved for the loss that Michael was facing, she cried for the beautiful and pure love she had witnessed there, and she sobbed for the very same love that burned inside of her for a woman who now wanted nothing to do with her. How could she have been so foolish as to let fear keep her from something so perfect as the love she felt for Patsy?

Sadness flowed from her eyes and dripped from her nose, and she reached into her pocket in search of a handkerchief. Instead, her fingers found the small, folded note that had slipped her mind in all her sadness. Carefully, she pulled it out and opened it with fumbling, half numb fingers.

_“Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.”_

 

***

 

Patsy’s footfalls clipped loudly in the crisp cold of a still night. Every step she took towards the nurses home seemed louder and more agitating than the one before it, and she slowed, making a conscious effort to walk quieter. Oh how she wished she had a cigarette. 

Her day had been a rough one. More catcalls and unwanted physical contact from two particularly chauvinistic apes of men. She had entered the ward with a determination to not let the Christmas card she had received that day bother her, but it did bother her. Her skin physically itched with agitation. The slightest insignificant things made her stomach boil in frustration. Each groping from those disgraceful patients left her considering if it would be worth losing her career just to slap one in the face.

By the time her break rolled around, Patsy was in no mood to socialise with the other nurses. Instead, she slipped around to a secluded outdoor area and distractedly made quick work of the last of her cigarettes. She knew Delia was working the same shift over in the palliative care ward, and couldn't risk seeing her if their breaks were the same time. The last thing she needed today was to see Delia. The blue-eyed, dimpled face of the beautiful woman haunted her dreams and her thoughts. Weeks had passed since the last happy moment they shared, but Patsy's determination to put Delia in a box was yet to succeed. 

Dreams of a much different reaction to their kiss taunted her when she slept. Dreams of a love reciprocated and shared without fear or condemnation. Dreams of a happiness and freedom that had eluded Patsy since she was a small girl. Each time she felt wakefulness suck her from her dream world, the starkness of reality slapped her hard once again. Days were spent trying to keep busy, trying to push Delia down into the same box as her father, the same box as Clare, the same box as her deceased mother and sister, but the lid would not close. 

All of the others had left her, either of their own accord or taken by an unstoppable force. They were gone and she was left behind. Delia, however, was still here. Her perfume still lingered in the hallway when she came and went from her room. Her voice, now quiet and uncharacteristically subdued, still rang clear through any other noise to Patsy’s ears, and late at night when sleep evaded her, the muffled sounds of sniffles and nose-blowing permeated the flimsiness of both the wall between them, and the wall Patsy was trying to build around her heart. 

She could almost hear those sniffles now. Patsy shook her head as if to clear cobwebs from her brain. “You’re losing it, you fool,” She muttered under her breath.

_*Sniff*_ There it was again.

Patsy paused, steam curling out of pursed lips as she tried to still her breath and listen. Sure enough, she hadn’t been hearing things at all. She stepped out of the glow from the streetlamp to try and see in the shadowy darkness. Squinting as her eyes tried to adjust, Patsy could make out a familiar silhouette slumped and crying on the smokers’ bench.

“Delia,” Patsy breathed. She felt that familiar ache hit her in the chest as though she had been punched. Delia was out alone in the dark and freezing cold, crying. Patsy’s heart ached so much that it pulled her feet forward in small, uncertain steps. 

“No.” Patsy stopped herself and spun on her heel. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t wordlessly hold and comfort the woman she loved and then be snubbed again once she was no longer needed. Her heart just couldn't take it. She had worked for weeks to try and build up her walls again, she couldn’t weaken her resolve now. 

With one instantly regretted look over her shoulder, Patsy set her jaw and walked quietly home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote by E.E. Cummings. 
> 
> Thank you to Echo7 for continual awesome beta work.


	24. Time to face the music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high as the Christmas social approaches. There's nothing they can do but face the music.

Drops of icy water dripped slowly but steadily from the eaves of the old building, falling to land where many had fallen before them. The moss growing between the stone was thicker greener there, as the roof collected the condensation from the heavy winter skies, letting it run off into the dim and rarely used alleyway behind the nurse’s home. The drip, drip, drip of the water matched the angry footsteps clopping rhythmically on the pavement as Patsy paced. She had emerged from her room for the sole purpose of seeking some fresh air in contrast to her musty confines but to her surprise and annoyance, she had been stopped and handed mail on her way out. Ragged breathing whooshed through flared nostrils in time to her steps as she glanced scornfully at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. A mixture of white-hot rage and sickening jealousy churned at her already tormented insides and she chewed her bottom lip so hard it felt like it might bleed.

Of all the things Delia could have done to drive the knife deeper into Patsy’s chest, this was likely the worst. And Jack!? Well...

“Don’t even get me started with you, Jack Barlow!” She spat angrily to herself as the thoughts tumbled from her mind out of her mouth.

She held up the wadded paper and smoothed out the creases just enough to glance at the words again,

_‘I wasn’t sure if you were aware Delia invited me to the Christmas social…’_  
‘...I felt it would be rude to decline…’  
‘..wanted to make sure you knew and understand I have no intentions towards her.’ 

Skimming the few sentences again made her outrage take centre stage in her intestines once more. How could he do this to her? How could Delia do this to her? Jack’s attempt at being gallant and sending her a letter of forewarning was of little consolation. The fact remained that the woman Patsy loved had not only made her feel like a fool, but now had the audacity to ask someone from _her_ past to the social. As for either of their _intentions_ , or lack thereof, toward each other… Well, Patsy just didn’t want to think about it.

Like a caged animal, she continued to pace. Not even the starting drizzles of frosty rain could stop her agitated feet. In a way, she was a caged animal. Matron had made it crystal clear that this social was compulsory for all the current nurses in training, as well the the new intake of girls starting right after the holidays, no exceptions. Short of quitting nursing entirely or becoming deathly ill and ending up in hospital in the few hours between now and tonight, Patsy had no choice but to go and endure an evening of watching Delia being blissfully twirled around the dance floor with one person who had never truly let her down. That is, until now.

As her inner turmoil swirled on, the anger began to fade somewhat, replaced by an equally crushing amount of despair. Her feet ceased their relentless pacing, and Patsy walked slowly to a stack of old wooden crates that had been discarded in the corner. She sat down on one with a dejected flop. How could she have been so foolish? If she had just kept up her facade, kept her distance from Delia like she did from everyone else, she never would have been in this mess. Delia’s infectious good nature and quiet beauty had enchanted her, made her vulnerable, and just when she let her guard down, she had driven a knife right through her heart. 

One hand, still trembling from the weight of her emotion, reached into her coat pocket and pulled a cigarette from her case. Agitated fingers fumbled to light it but then came the sweet relief of the first long drag. She crossed one leg over her other knee and lent forward, elbow resting on top. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as she blew a plume of smoke into the crisp winter air. More visions of Delia with Jack consumed her, and she shook her head to clear them. Angrily, she flicked the ash from her cigarette before bringing it to her lips for another drag. She would just have to get through tonight one way or another.

***

The halls were buzzing with would-be nurses scurrying about in excitement as they ducked from room to room borrowing this and using that and seeing what such-and-such had decided to wear. It was the most chaotic that Delia had ever seen the place and she tucked her head down to forge her way through to the more secluded branch-off of hallway that she and Patsy called home. 

As the noise and kerfuffle died down some the further she walked, a now familiar pang of sadness filled her chest. It was the final day of their first placement round, and she had just finished her last shift. She should have been spending this time with Patsy, toasting to their success and trying to figure out which outfit she should wear tonight to gain the best reaction from the blonde. Instead, she found herself alone again and dreading the evening before her. She’d never known it was possible to miss someone so much when they were only one thin wall away. 

Slowing as she approached her room, she glanced at the symmetrical doors, mere inches apart from each other, and sighed. Every fibre of her small body longed to knock on that door and…

...and what? Apologise? Break down and cry? Storm in and kiss Patsy fair on the lips? Who was she kidding? Patsy hated her now. Her hand was paused midway to the door, and as she walked through her own, she lightly brushed her fingertips against Patsy’s as though the sincere caress could reach the occupant inside.

How was she going to get through tonight? It had crossed her mind more than once to fake some kind of ailment to try and get out of going, but Matron was unlikely to let her get away with that. She had written several letters to Jack in which she came up with all manner of flimsy excuses as to why he needn’t come any more, but all of them lay crumpled and discarded in her waste paper basket. No, she was stuck with her lot. She had made her bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

She sat down on her bed and slipped off her white shoes, now scuffed from another day on the ward. They would need to be wiped down and polished ready for the next ward placement, but it could wait until tomorrow. Flinching, she lifted her left foot up onto her knee to inspect the source of her day’s pain. The bottom of her nylon was wet and stuck to her foot just below her second toe. Apparently the bandage she had applied to her blister had done little to stop it from bursting. Groaning, she pulled off the offending nylon and rubbed her aching arch. She hadn't expected nursing to take such a toll on her feet. She had always been a busy one, and as a youth had gone without shoes more often than not. It seemed that spending two months in a classroom had made her soft. Or her feet, at least. 

“Great,” she muttered under her breath. Sore feet were sure to make this difficult evening even less enjoyable. Maybe it would give her an excuse to sit out some dances, though. Her usual zest for a jaunt on the dancefloor had been snuffed out by the suffocating anxiety that hung like a heavy cloak on her shoulders. 

Padding to the mirror above her dresser, she inspected the pale face that stared back at her. Eyes that used to continuously sparkle with life were now dull and framed by dark rings, and her skin was pale against the purple of her uniform. Even her puffed sleeves were droopy and lackluster. Others had noticed, too, including Frances, who had made more than one snide remark about how nursing clearly didn’t agree with everyone. Delia had shrugged it off. She neither had time for nor cared about Frances’ nonsense anymore.

Casting another glance at her reflection, something seemed to shift inside of her. She leaned closer, scowling at the peaky features of her face. Who even was this girl in the mirror? This wasn’t like her. This wasn’t Delia.

“Okay, Miss Busby,” She sighed at her reflection, “I think it’s time you stopped your sulking. Enough is enough.”

***

Jack paced the cobbles of the street outside of the nurse’s home, pausing to nudge the rusty bike rack to the right of the doorway with the toe of his newly re-soled wingtips. One of the bars wobbled freely, obviously loose from a combination of overuse and lack of maintenance. He squatted beside it, trying to see in the dim light from the street if there was a nut or screw he could tighten to fix it. He fiddled for a moment longer before sighing and standing again. Who was he kidding? He was no handyman. He probably couldn’t have fixed it even if he had been able to locate the problem. Looking down at his uncalloused hands, he scowled at the dark smudges that the metal had left on his fingers. 

“Nice work,” he muttered to himself as he rummaged in his pockets for his handkerchief. Eventually he found it, and spent the next few moments busying himself with the task of wiping the grime from his hands. What on earth could be taking Delia so long was beyond him, but he figured that the mystery of the female mind was not something he overly wished to delve into. Instead, he continued his pacing, hoping that the movement would keep the chill of the winter night from permeating his woollen coat. 

He looked up at the night sky. The clouds from earlier in the day were gone now, replaced by a hazy fog hovering just below the tops of the street lamps. Pausing again, he watched with fascination as the fine mist swirled and danced in the glow of the lights. Shrugging his shoulders a little, he exhaled a visible breath and was once again grateful for the softness and warmth of the burgundy cashmere scarf around his neck. His mother had sent it to him as an early Christmas gift, with a note to remind him to keep warm, along with the usual mention of his love life, or lack thereof. 

_If there’s anyone special you’d like to bring home for Christmas, we’d love to meet her._

He rolled his eyes at the thought. Ever the mother hen, that woman. He should have told her that he was going out with a lovely young lady tonight, perhaps that would have appeased her a little. Then again, perhaps not. It didn’t really matter anyway. This was certainly not a date, he knew, and even if Delia did feel some kind of attraction to him, he could never encourage it. Patsy would always hold a special place in his heart, and to hurt her in such away was simply unthinkable. 

That’s exactly why he had written her that letter. When the invitation from Delia first arrived, he did not even entertain the idea of accepting. In fact, he had started several letters in response with varying degrees of excuses as to why he couldn’t make it, but something stopped him from completing any. It struck him as odd that Delia would write to him, and the more he thought about it, the more his concern for Patsy grew. Something had turned sour between them, and his protectiveness for Patsy was the reason he had finally accepted. He had to go, had to see if there was any way he could help smooth things over between she and Delia. Patsy would be furious with him for it, there was no getting around that, but he had written to her anyway in the hopes that it would come as less of a shock to see him there.

The creaking of the old wooden door snapped Jack from his musings and he spun on his toe to see who had opened it. A smile pulled at his lips as Delia emerged, looking absolutely lovely even with all of her winter wraps on. Her shining, perfectly set fringe peeked out from beneath the light blue of the matching hat and scarf, and he momentarily reconsidered his preference for blondes. Making short work of the few paces between himself and the step, and held out his hand to her. 

“Delia, how lovely to see you again,” he said as he placed her small gloved hand in the crook of his elbow.

“It was good of you to come,” she replied, tilting her face upward to offer him a smile. 

From a distance, her light makeup had made her cheeks seem a healthy shade of pink, but upon closer inspection, he could immediately see by the pallor of her skin that she was not as bright-eyed and full of life as the last time he had seen her. It appeared that his perception of the situation between Delia and Patsy had been conservative at best. Upon seeing her now, it was clear that something had obviously gone more wrong than he had expected, and Jack’s concern grew. If Delia was this troubled, Patsy would be an absolute mess, although he knew without a doubt that she would be too stubborn to show it. No, if he knew Patsy, that cold, stoney facade would be firmly in place.

The pair turned the corner in the direction of the community hall with an air of awkwardness between them. Jack wasn’t entirely sure what he should say to try and make her feel more comfortable, and the longer the silence dragged on, the more awkward it became. Eventually, he decided to just dive right in.

“I was surprised to receive your letter,” he said. “When we parted ways last time I didn’t really expect to hear from you again.”

Delia cast her eyes downward, studying the cracks in the footpath for a moment before answering. “I hope you don’t think it inappropriate of me,” she said. “It’s just that everyone seemed to have someone to go with and I don’t really know anyone in London.”

“Not inappropriate at all,” he reassured her before pausing, selecting his next words carefully. “I’m surprised you and Patsy didn’t just go together. Could it be she’s attracted a suitor?” He knew very well that she would not have, but was unsure how else to broach the subject.

Delia’s hand stiffened in his arm, and he could feel her bristle at his words. If there were any doubts as to his suspicions regarding the nature of her feelings for Patsy, that reaction had quieted them all. He had hit a nerve. Time for some damage control.

“I wouldn’t think so,” he continued. “If I know Patience like I think I do; it would be more likely that she’s just being unbearably stubborn about something again.” 

Delia glanced at him through the corner of her eye, the thin line of her lips telling him he was correct again, but still she said nothing.

He stopped walking for a moment, halting them both in the colourful glow of a shop’s Christmas window display, and looked down at his companion. “Whatever it is that’s come between you two, I’m sure you can work it out. Even from our brief meeting I could tell that you were good for each other,” at the quick look of panic that flitted across her face at those words, he continued, “True friends like that are few and far between.” 

The small body beside him sighed and seemed to relax, but she still did not say a word. They resumed their walking, and he waited patiently for her to speak what was on her mind.

“I am sorry for dragging you into the middle of this, Jack,” she said quietly. “Mine and Patsy’s... Disagreement...Is between us.” She chewed her bottom lip for a few steps, and Jack wondered what exactly it was that was consuming her mind so. Before he could pry any further, however, she turned her face to him and attempted a cheery smile. 

“Anyway, let's not let it ruin the evening. I’ve done enough fretting and sulking, it’s time to have some fun.” She wrinkled her nose playfully before adding, “You've done me a favour by coming tonight, so I will do my best to go easy on you on the dance floor.”

He raised his eyebrows at the cheeky remark and nudged her slightly with his elbow as he walked. “Oh, is that so? Patience really has been filling your head with falsehoods about my dancing. I’m not _that_ bad!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she answered smugly.

***

Delia shrugged out of her coat and carefully unwound her scarf, trying not to mess up her hair too much. Hanging them on one of the hooks in the entryway, she could hear the music floating out from under the swinging doors leading to the hall. Anxiety made her stomach curl into knots and she took a steadying breath before turning to Jack who stood waiting at the doors, and making her way over to him. This was it, it was too late to back out now. 

Jack gallantly stepped forward and reached to open the door for her. She paused in the doorway, taking in her surroundings before continuing. It seemed they were one of the last to arrive. Some couples were already swaying on the dancefloor to the smooth crooning of Eartha Kitt’s ‘Santa Baby’, others were milling about on the outskirts in small groups, chatting away with drinks in hand.

Her eyes flitted about but did not find what they were looking for. It appeared that Patsy wasn’t here yet. Jack followed her gaze and stooped down to speak quietly in her ear.

“I think the coast is clear.”

Delia looked up at him with an appreciative smile. Jack really was a wonderful sort of man, and she felt a pang of guilt for taking up time he could have spent with any number of interested women. She glanced around the room again, this time taking note of how many pairs of interested eyes were focussed in their direction. 

_Jack could have his pick of this crowd,_ she thought to herself. Skimming over them again, she sized up each one to see if she thought they were worthy of such a man. Not a single one made the grade. She chuckled then as she realised what she was doing.

Jack wrinkled his brow at her in bemusement. “Care to share the joke?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Delia replied, trying to keep a straight face. “Just sizing up all my competition,” She added with an almost missable wink.

Jack looked around quickly, then back at Delia. “Oh,” he said as the redness of embarrassment crept up his neck. “I see.”

“Come on,” she laughed, tugging him towards the dance floor, “We had better keep you moving or there’ll be a stampede.”

The pair had almost made it to the dancefloor when a painted up Kathy stepped into their path, her nervous-looking date in tow. She leaned back on her heels, looking Delia up and down before glancing at Jack, then back to Delia again. A malevolent smirk contorted her face before she spoke.

“Well, well, Delia,” she sneered, “All this time I didn’t think you had it in you, but you’ve surprised me.” She then looked past Delia, holding her hand out to Jack. “Katherine Marks, but you can call me Kathy,” she said, her voice nearly dripping with sugar.

Jack played along, taking her hand and dipping his head in greeting. “Jack Barlow,” he replied. “Delia’s told me about your placements on the same ward these past few weeks.” He then held his hand out to Kathy’s date before adding, “And this must be the infamous Mr Adams. Nice to meet you.” 

Delia nearly choked at his words, but managed to stifle it into little more than just clearing her throat. She had told him a little about her placement on the walk here, including the squabbling between Kathy and Frances about the young doctor-to-be. She had also told him that he had jilted them both for one of the surgical nurses already working at the hospital, but it seems he had chosen to conveniently forget about that part.

The spluttering and look of indignation on Kathy’s face was too much for Delia to bear, and she quickly spun on her heel, dragging Jack hurriedly to the dancefloor before erupting into a fit of giggles.

“Jack Barlow, you are terrible!” She laughed, making little effort to regain her composure.

Jack pointed to his chest with both hands, looking about at innocent as a child caught with his hand in a biscuit tin. “Who, me? Why, I was just being polite.”

Delia shook her head at his antics but could not erase the grin from her face. The song had ended and a new one was beginning. The opening bars of ‘Tweedle Dee’ crackled through the speakers and Jack offered his hand in invitation. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” she replied, swirling around under his arm before swinging to the rhythm of the music. 

In this moment she was glad she had come. Jack was just the sort of company she had needed, and it felt wonderful to just dance after weeks of walking, bending, and lifting, not to mention all the angst and sleepless nights since her falling out with Patsy. For a few minutes she could be carefree and let the weight on her shoulders go.

Jack and Delia danced through two more songs before the DJ switched to a slower one. Couples drew closer together to sway slowly and examine the stars in each other’s eyes. A moment of awkwardness passed as Jack stood looking at Delia, obviously waiting for some sort of cue as to what to do next. 

“How about a drink?” She said, smiling at the relief on his face as she did so.

“I’ll go and get us some refreshments. Would you like to find a seat?” He suggested, looking around for a vacant spot. Delia followed his gaze to an empty set of chairs in the corner. 

“Thank you, I’ll wait over there and rest my feet for a moment,” she replied before making her way through the crowd to a very welcome seat. Her foot was aching and she was sure it would be a mess by the end of the night, but she was having a good time regardless.

“Delia!” 

Delia looked up at the sound of her name being called. Her heart leapt into her throat until she realised that the voice wasn’t Patsy’s. It was so familiar, though. That accent could only belong to one friend. Scanning the crowd of people in front of her, Delia finally landed eyes on her.

“Rose!?” She stood, hurrying over to greet the young Irish woman. “What on earth are you doing here?” She asked in astonishment.

“I’m back,” she replied, her musical lilt even more pronounced than when they had spoken last. “Dad spent a few days in hospital but he’s all well again now. We had our service of my dear Nan after he was released and then came home not long after. Dad says he’ll be damned if he’s letting anything stand in the way of his little girl’s dreams, so here I am. I’ll be joining the new recruits after New Year’s.”

“That’s fantastic news!” Delia exclaimed, hugging the tiny woman again in her excitement.  
Rose looked around after their embrace and wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Where’s Patsy? Has she gone to get some drinks?” She asked, craning her neck to look towards the bar.

Delia’s mouth went dry at the question and she fumbled for an answer. By some stroke of luck, however, she was saved by the timely arrival of Jack, carrying a glass in each hand. 

“I completely forgot to ask you what you’d like, so I hope a gin and tonic will be okay,” he said, offering out one of the glasses. He paused mid-way as he became suddenly aware that he had interrupted a conversation. “Oh, terribly sorry. What ghastly manners I have.”

“Jack, I’d like you to meet Rose,” Delia began her introductions. “She was in my nursing class but unfortunately had to defer for a few months while her father was unwell. She’ll be coming back in the new year with the new intake of... girls...” Her sentence trailed off as she looked back and forth between the two. 

Jack was staring, unabashedly, at the tiny Irish woman, who in turn was looking shyly back at him through long black lashes. Amused by the encounter playing out before her, Delia shifted her weight more to one foot and folded her arms in front of her waist while she waited for the two to snap back out of it.

Eventually, Jack seemed to remember himself. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Still not taking his eyes off of Rose, he handed Delia her glass, wiped his damp hand on his trousers, and offered it out to Rose in greeting. “Lovely to meet you, Rose,” he said, his voice slightly deeper than Delia had previously heard it.

“Nice to meet you too... Jack,” Rose answered bashfully, her cheeks glowing in a blush.

“There you are! I got nearly all the way to the DJ table before I even noticed you weren’t following me. Where on earth did you disappear to? I must have looked quite the picture just bobbing along on my way to the dance floor talking to myself.” 

The obnoxious babbling of Ivy emerging from the crowd of people broke the spell again between Rose and Jack. Ordinarily Delia would have been more irritated by her chattering, but right now she was actual grateful to see the effervescent brunette. As entertaining as it was to watch the two, she had been entirely unsure how she was going to bring them back to the present.

Jack cleared his throat and awkwardly fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. It was clear he was embarrassed, but he quickly regained his composure and pasted a pleasant smile on his face. 

“I’m afraid that would be my fault. Delia here was introducing me to Rose and I can be quite a chatterbox,” he flicked a quick smile in Delia’s direction as he lied. 

“Oh!” Ivy exclaimed, hardly giving Jack time to finish his sentence. “I was so busy looking for Rose that I didn’t even see you there. Sorry, Delia, and..” she hesitated for a second, “Jack, isn't it? Yes, well, you’ll have to excuse us. Rose promised I could teach her some new dance moves and if we don’t hurry it along the good songs will be over. Come on Rose!” 

Without so much as a ‘see you later’, the bob-haired whirlwind dragged Rose by the hand into the crowd of young people and out of sight.

Delia looked at Jack, whose eyes were still fixed on the place where the Irish woman had disappeared. Finally dragging his eyes away, he looked at Delia. She smirked at him, a knowing twinkle in her eye, and chuckled as the redness of his blushing made it to his ears.

“Redheads is it, then?” She teased, raising an eyebrow. She continued, thickly laying on her welsh lilt, “Or perhaps you’re just a sucker for an accent.”

Jack ducked his head, his hands in his pockets, and fidgeted for a moment before nodding in the direction of the dance floor. “If you’re done picking on your poor date, we could dance a little more,” he said, feigning a scowl.

“I suppose I shouldn’t torment you too much,” she replied, following his lead back into the crowd. 

‘Rock Around the Clock’ was in full swing by the time they had found a vacant space to dance, and Jack’s questionable dance moves quickly had Delia in stitches. He tried so hard to coordinate the wobbling of his knees and shuffling of his feet, but he just couldn’t seem to get it right. He raised both his eyebrows at her as it ended, looking quite glad it was over, but his relief was short lived.

_Get out from that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans!_

It seemed the DJ was not done with Bill Haley and his Comets. Jack groaned but he did not back down from the challenge. Instead, he jumped right back into it, embellishing his clumsiness with a series of hilarious facial expressions. 

Delia laughed at his silliness and with a flare she spun to the end of his arm’s length and back again, her skirt swirling merrily as she did so. When the pair shimmied around and as she turned to face the entryway, Delia caught a glimpse of Patsy standing just inside the door, looking directly at her. Jack slid in front of her, blocking her view before noticing that Delia had stopped dancing. He paused, and Delia stepped to the side but Patsy was gone from the place where she had stood. Delia stepped on her tip-toes, trying to spot a glimpse of where the taller woman could have vanished to, and managed to just catch a glimpse of her blonde hair as she disappeared through a side door.

Jack, still confused as to what was going on, placed a reassuring hand on her back.

“Delia? Are you okay?” He asked, worry etched on his face.

“Hmm?” She said, turning to face him with a dazed expression.

“I asked if you were okay” Jack repeated.

“Oh, err, yes.” She replied, not so convincingly.

“You look a little pale,” he said as he started to usher her towards some chairs on the side of the room. “How about we sit down for a bit. I can get you some water if you like?”

“I’m okay, really, it’s just...” Delia paused her protest, trying to crane her neck to see the doorway through which Patsy had vanished. She had come tonight with the resolve that she would forget about the conflict between herself and the impossible blonde just for one night, but the haunted expression that had shown plain as day on the older woman’s face as she watched them dancing had shaken her to the core. She had to follow her. She had to talk to her.

She looked at Jack, who was still waiting for her to continue. “It’s just that I have a bit of a sore foot from wearing those awful nurse’s shoes.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth. “Maybe I’ll just sit out a few.”

Jack didn’t look entirely convinced, but did not question her further. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll go get us each another refreshment and then we can sit for a while.”

“No,” Delia replied a little too quickly. She couldn’t leave Jack stranded but she absolutely had to try and talk to Patsy. “I’d hate for you to miss out. How about you ask Rose if she would take over for me for a while?”

Jack’s eyes brightened at the mention of Rose, but as quickly as he had seemed interested, it vanished. “That would hardly be gentlemanly of me, Delia. I’m here with you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Delia argued. “You and I aren’t an item, Jack, and I have never told anyone otherwise. You’re free to dance with whoever you wish.”

He looked at her sceptically and she continued, “For all they know, we could be distant cousins. Now go and have some fun!” She sat down to emphasise her point and glanced to the right of him, where Rose was bopping awkwardly on the edge of the dance floor. Ivy was exuberantly waving her arms about in what Delia could only assume was her idea of ‘teaching’. Nodding her head in their direction, Delia made shooing motions with her hands. “I’ll be fine. Go!”

He grinned at her, looking ever so boyish, before straightening his shirt and walking confidently over to the pair. Delia watched for a moment at the endearing encounter as Jack presumably asked Ivy if he could have the next dance with Rose. Ivy seemed entirely unphased about the interruption and wandered off, leaving the would-be couple to shyly make their way further into the throng of moving bodies.

As they disappeared from sight, Pat Boone’s voice sprung through the speakers.

_You made.._  
Me cry..  
When you said..  
Good-bye!  
Ain’t that a shaaaame! 

Delia scowled at the song choice and stood to her feet. Taking a steadying breath, she headed toward to the mysterious door across the room. Time to face the music.

***

Patsy stamped out the butt of her cigarette, releasing the final lung-full of smoke skyward through her deep red lips as she did so. She had arrived some time ago, but as yet had not been able to make herself enter the hall. Instead she stood outside in the cold, alone aside from a raggedy-looking street dog roaming around. She watched him for a while until he disappeared from sight.

Wandering a little further from the steps, she leaned with her shoulder against the red telephone box sanding sentry outside of the hall and traced circles where the heat of her body made the glass fog up. Reaching in her pocket, she was annoyed to discover that she was now out of cigarettes. With an exasperated sigh she pushed off from her leaning post. There was no more excuse for her to be loitering outside and if she didn’t go in soon she was sure to incur the wrath of Matron.

Patsy slowly ascended the steps, her fingers collecting droplets of frosty condensation as she dragged them along the hand rail. When she reached the top, she studied her wet fingertips glistening in the night lights and wished for the umpteenth time that she could be anywhere but here. She had spent the last two hours psyching herself up, her head trying to convince her heart that it didn’t care… shouldn’t care. She had picked out the green dress and matching pumps especially because she knew Delia loved that colour on her and had spent extra time pinning her hair just so in the hopes that seeing her would make Delia feel even just a fraction of the hurt and the jealousy that she felt. Being vindictive was not normally in her nature, but neither was vulnerability, and she had foolishly let that take over her too.

At the door, she checked herself one more time. She swallowed hard and set her face to an expression of indifference before opening the door and slipping in quietly. Matron was not standing far away, and had noticed the door opening. She looked shrewdly at Patsy before nodding a silent greeting and disappearing towards a quieter corner of the large room.

The music seemed louder than necessary. Perhaps because she had been standing outside in the quiet of the cold night for so long, or perhaps it was just because she wasn’t a fan of Bill Haley.

Hoping to find a discreet corner in which to hide, she cast her gaze around the room. A flash of yellow caught her eye. 

Delia. 

She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Delia looked spectacular in yellow, and this was no exception. The perfectly fitting dress accentuated her figure with the help of a sky blue belt and shoes, and she had a matching blue flower pinned in her rich brown hair. Patsy’s chest began to feel tight as she stood watching Delia and Jack dance. She looked like she was having so much fun. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and she was tilting her head back as she laughed at Jack’s antics. Intentions or no intentions, it appeared that they were making quite the pair. Delia spun out to the end of Jack’s reach and back again, her ponytail whipping around her face as she came to a stop. Patsy could almost smell the scent of her shampoo, and the heat of jealousy consumed her stomach.

That was enough, she was leaving. Just as she went to turn away, Delia spun in her direction and caught sight of her. She stopped dead, staring into Patsy’s eyes from across the room. Patsy’s chest tightened in panic and the music faded to white noise as they stood staring. Mercifully, Jack danced right in their line of sight and she was able to collect herself, striding away into the cover of the crowd.

Trying to hold herself together long enough, she frantically searched for an escape route. Spying a door ahead and to her right, she hurried for it, praying under her breath that it wasn’t locked. Reaching the door, she pushed on it and to her relief it creaked open. Right at this moment she did not care that she had no idea where it led, she just needed to get away. Slipping through the door into the darkness, she released the breath she didn’t realise she had been holding.

Safe.

As the door groaned closed, the sounds of the festivities faded away to dull noise. Grey semi-darkness enveloped Patsy, and she took a moment to let her eyes adjust. She made her way to a small bench-like shape across from where she had come in and sat down, her heart slowly ceasing its thumping. Spying a switch to the left, she flicked it on. A small light protruding from the wall buzzed to life, casting a yellow glow over the smaller room. It looked exactly as it had smelled upon entering. Musty and unused. A small, run-down stage was to the right, and chairs were stacked against the far wall, their dusty frames like skeletons of times gone by, of recitals and meetings and pageants now forgotten. Patsy presumed this had been the original hall, cast off to the side and used for storage once the bigger, newer extension had been built.

She let her breath out through pursed lips, puffing out her cheeks and sending swirls of glittering dust flying through the circle of golden light. She watched them idly floating away, the solitude of her hideaway allowing her tension to slowly melt from her body. She closed her eyes for a moment, but visions of Jack’s strong arms holding Delia on the dancefloor swam in her mind, making her stomach clench once again.

Angrily blinking the thought away, Patsy spun around on the stool. She was surprised to find that directly behind her was a small upright piano. Slender fingers reached out and brushed delicately at the dust which had built up on the lid. Ornate carvings in the body of the piano had caught the dust, coating the dark, smooth wood with a dull grey. Reaching for her handkerchief, Patsy mindlessly wiped away at it, gradually revealing the beauty beneath. Cleaning something had always been her way of coping. There was something about wiping away the grime from something beautiful that was like a balm to her wounded soul. If only the unpleasantness of life could be so easily purged.

Lifting the lid, she ran ivory fingers over worn ivory keys, the milky, aged white blending seamlessly with her skin as though they were made of the same. Gingerly, her right hand crept to a familiar position, hovering poised as it once had learned to do. 

The first note rang out unsurely, both from age and from the reverence of the player. A second followed; louder, more confident. Spurred by memory alone, slender fingers walked the keys, slowly at first but gaining pace as the music filled the small space.

Like a dance partner left at the wayside, the left hand made its way to its side of the ballroom. Chords once nearly forgotten flowed from it and mingled with the notes, washing over her. The dark broodiness that she had always hated now seemed to fit her perfectly and she pressed her fingers hard into the keys, the waves of music pulling her back in time like a rip-tide to a place she had buried deep in her heart. Somewhere in her memory she could hear her mother’s voice.

_‘We could not appreciate the light if it were not for the dark, Patience, and so it is with music.’_

And so came the sweet relief of the light again as the higher notes consumed the gloom. Faster and more confident, she played. With every note, the vision of her mother’s face grew clearer in her mind. There she sat, her smaller, dainty hands poised in just the same way. Blonde curls tumbled down her back and fell about her soft face, glowing in the morning sunshine like golden silk. Soft, pink cheeks framed a graceful smile and eyes as green as a stormy ocean, but calm as a spring morning danced with the joy of creating music. Patsy’s mother had loved the piano. The baby grand had sat pride of place in the conservatory Father had built for her, surrounded by a paradise of tropical gardens. Patsy could almost feel the warmth on her face, as though she were sat beside her mother once again, trying desperately to play as beautifully as she.

Now, though, Patsy played alone. Golden sunshine was replaced by a humming bulb and the warmth on her cheeks now from the burning tears flowing freely from her closed eyes. The audience of nature’s beauty was replaced by nothing more than an army of dusty chairs. Still, in that moment Patsy did not feel lonely. The music had carried her to a peaceful, hidden place in the labyrinth of complexity that was her mind, and for a moment she felt renewed.

 

The voice of the piano rising in a crescendo masked the repeated groan of the rarely-used door. The unexpected music caused Delia to pause just inside the room as she took in her surroundings. She had seen Patsy disappear through this door, but had no idea where it might lead. 

There was Patsy, sitting in the glow of an aging light bulb, her blonde tresses illuminated in a halo of gold. Back as straight as an arrow, she rocked back and forth as the music carried her. Delia could do nothing but stare, mouth slightly open, as she watched Patsy, entirely consumed by the music she was creating. Her long fingers danced across the keys, her head now tilting back slightly as though she was looking heavenward, but her eyes were closed and her cheeks were wet with unchecked tears.

 

As her finger released the final key, the piano warbled out its unsteady ringing and faded away to silence. Exhausted from the emotion of it all, Patsy’s rigid posture slumped. Her throat ached with the burning lump of tears she was now trying to swallow down but the wetness on her cheeks was a testament to how well that was going. The stillness of the room seemed to descend upon her now, the music from the main hall nothing but muffled noise. Her nose was running and she sniffled quietly, but she could not stop another tear as it escaped her lashes to drop with a splash onto the weathered ivory. 

Lifting her head to try and stop the dripping, she wiped her nose with an unused corner of her handkerchief and sniffed again. Her nose was clearer this time, and a hint of an all too familiar scent made her stomach clench. She sat stock still, her spine bristling. Small, quiet footsteps drew near, but she did not turn to look at their maker. She couldn’t.

“Pats…” Delia said, just above a whisper.

A warm hand landed lightly on her shoulder, and Patsy flinched away as though it had burned her. Still she did not look up, nor did she say a word.

Delia tried again, this time without the touch, “Patsy--”

“What do you want, Delia?” Patsy interrupted her. Even to her own ears, Patsy’s words sounded sharp and disdainful. She waited, listening to the buzzing of the light as Delia paused. Perhaps she would take the hint that Patsy didn’t want to see her… No, that she couldn’t bear to see her. Perhaps she would just go and leave Patsy alone. Alone was all she had been for many years before meeting Delia, and alone was what she would stay.

Delia did not go. “I want you to talk to me again, Pats,” she said. Her fingers twitched as though she was about to touch Patsy again, but she did not. Instead, she turned and perched herself gingerly on the unoccupied end of the piano stool. Close, but not touching. 

The warmth of her nearness and the smell of her perfume sent Patsy’s innards into knots again. Why couldn’t she just go? A war raged inside of her, one side wanting to break down and collapse into the arms of the woman she loved, the other; the stronger side; frantically building the cracked walls of her heart higher and stronger. There was safety in her emotional fortress. She had foolishly let her guard down once already and look where it had landed her.

“It’s a little late for talking,” Patsy replied in a cold, unfeeling voice.

“Patsy, for goodness sake!” Delia slapped her hands onto her thighs in frustration, making Patsy jump. “It’s been weeks and every time I’ve tried to talk to you you’ve shut me out. You won’t even look at me let alone let me say a word to you,” Delia was breathless as she spoke, her sudden eruption of nerve obviously shocking her, too. “Well, I’ve had enough, Patsy. If you don’t want to talk, fine. I’ll do the talking.”

Patsy’s ire boiled up at the final remark and she snapped her head up suddenly, meeting the deep blue of Delia’s eyes with the flashing fire of her own. 

“And tell me what, exactly?” She spat, “You could have said anything to me in that museum, Delia. Anything. And what did you choose to say? _‘We should go.’_ ...We should go! So tell me then,” She panted, her whole body trembling with rage, “What is it you could possibly have to say to me now?” She jutted her chin out, not even flinching at the stricken look on the smaller woman’s face as her mouth gaped, trying to find her words. “Well??”

“To tell you that I’m in love with you, you fool!” Delia finally answered, her voice cracking on the final words. Delia stared hard at her for a moment, not willing to break away, and then the realisation that her words were hanging in the open air turned her eyes to saucers as she lay her vulnerability at Patsy’s feet.

Patsy stared at her, mouth slightly open, blood rushing in her ears with the shock of what she had just heard. The trembling from seconds before stopped, replaced by a stunned stillness.

“You…” Patsy’s heart was pounding, her throat suddenly as dry as powder. Several seconds that felt like hours ticked by as she sat, dazed, before suddenly her legs did what her head did best. “No,” she whispered, standing to her feet. “I won’t let you mock me again.” 

She turned to stride away, hot tears burning at her eyes, but Delia was just as quickly standing. Delia’s small hand grabbed at her wrist as she tried to walk past, spinning her back around. Before Patsy could pull away again, Delia’s face was suddenly only inches from her own, her neck cupped in the small hands of the brunette. Her eyes flicked side to side, searching Delia’s for any hint of derision, but instead she saw only her own emotion reflected there. Vulnerability, terror… longing… and then, there it came. 

The warm softness of Delia’s lips found her own and just like the first time, the electricity of the moment electrified every inch of Patsy’s body. Her scalp tingled and her stomach fluttered wildly, a floodgate of longing being suddenly burst wide open. As the smaller woman went to break away, Patsy’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer instead, returning the kiss with hunger. A few more seconds passed before she released her, and both women stared at each other in shock, just like they had in the shadow of the Diplodocus. This time, however, was very different.

Both women stepped back, chests heaving with breathlessness. Patsy looked down at the gorgeous woman standing before her, her head still reeling at the events of the last few moments. Delia had said she was in love with her and there was no going back from that. She was terrified and elated and nauseated with the thrill of it all at once.

Delia was watching her, and a nervous giggle bubbled up out of the Welshwoman’s throat, her cheeks and ears glowing a most becoming shade of rosy pink. Patsy felt the corner of her mouth tug upwards in a fish hook smile, before breaking into a full blown grin. With all of her usual charm, she quirked an eyebrow playfully and narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, Miss Busby,” She said, intentionally laying on her RP accent, “You sure do have a way of presenting your case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, this is where I leave it. I could continue but I think that this is where I should close the curtain and leave our girls be. I hope the ending to my little story was satisfying to you all, and thank you so much for your support.
> 
> A _**HUGE**_ thank you to Echo7 for being my ever-patient beta, and for the a selection of the music featured in this chapter. I also want to thank Patsy_Mount for encouraging me right from the start. I don't think I would have gotten it done without you both.
> 
> Now, time for some notes.
> 
> Songs:  
> Santa Baby - Eartha Kitts  
> Tweedle Dee - LaVern Baker  
> Hey There - Rosemary Clooney  
> Rock Around the Clock - Bill Haley and his Comets  
> Shake, Rattle and Roll - Bill Haley and his Comets  
> Ain’t that a Shame - Pat Boone
> 
> Patsy is playing ‘Clair De Lune’ by Claude Debussy. It's a beautiful piece. I highly recommend listening to it and maybe even reading the piano section again as you do.


End file.
